Prince of Mine
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: The long wait finally ends for Christian and Leslie. Follows 'Roarke and the Tribunal'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _Believe it or not, this story is still in progress: but here is the first chapter in any case, just to get everybody going. It's my hope to have the entire thing completed and posted by the end of this week. I look forward to your feedback on this one especially, as I've been waiting to write this for a very long time!  
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§ § § -- January 6, 2001 – Lilla Jordsö

Not till the jet's landing gear bumped onto the runway at the lone major airport on Lilla Jordsö did Rogan Callaghan come back to reality and look around. So this was his destination. It was odd how it reminded him of the Ireland of his youth, although it was flatter by far. In the near distance there was the skyline of what he assumed was the capital city. The sky was overcast and there was a white dusting on the ground; flurries beat against the jet's windows as he gazed out.

He had been going over and over the presentation Julie had helped him write two days before. Roarke had been the first person he'd told, just that past Monday; they had been up till almost two o'clock that morning, with Roarke grilling him minutely, covering every possible point, and then making him sign reams of forms once he was finally satisfied with what Rogan had to tell him. It was official now, and he was happy to have leaped that hurdle, although he'd known all along that it was really a matter of bureaucracy and double-checking. Roarke had been in on this from the moment he'd thought of the idea. Now it was King Arnulf he had to persuade, and from what little he'd heard of the man—second-hand via Julie from Leslie—it would take French-kissing the Blarney Stone to gain enough loquacity to convince him.

The thought of Leslie made him bite his lip. Unlike her father, she had no idea what was afoot; Rogan had insisted she remain in the dark, for he hated the thought of crashing his cousin's hopes if this failed. Her entire future lay in his hands. The very idea made his gut freeze. He was so busy trying to convince himself he could do this that he wound up being the last to disembark, and shoved down his apprehension with a great effort and a lot of mental pep-talking on his way to pick up his luggage.

Fortunately, he was met by a long black limousine, just as he'd been promised, and gave the driver a smile and a tip of an imaginary hat. "I'm Rogan Callaghan," he said.

"Welcome to Lilla Jordsö, _herr_ Callaghan," the driver said politely. "The drive to the castle will take about twenty minutes. There are refreshments in the back, so please relax."

Rogan nodded, outwardly unconcerned, but inside he was a bale of nerves. Still, he was curious enough to explore the inside of the car once they were on their way, and did indeed find a small cooler stocked with canned soft drinks. He poked through them and chose a Coke; he figured he was going to need caffeine to stave off jet lag till he'd dealt with King Arnulf. So far things were going as they should be.

When the car came within sight of the castle, Rogan let out a low whistle. It was the most forbidding place he had ever seen, including the forlorn ruins he'd explored as a child. How on earth did this country's royal family stand living there? The place was so impressively negative that he couldn't keep from blurting out the question the moment he saw his contact under the portico.

Princess Anna-Kristina laughed. "When I was a child and thought I was going to be the queen," she confessed merrily, "I had grand plans to raze this pile of stones and put in something modern. I used to think a glass castle would be lovely…I think I got that idea from some old fairy tale." She offered her hand on Rogan's chuckle and shook. "I'm so glad you're here! I told my sisters and swore them to secrecy—I want to catch Pappa by surprise, so that he doesn't have a chance to come up with some reason to refuse you. Leslie must be so excited!"

"Actually," Rogan said, falling into step beside her as they entered the enormous reception hall, "Leslie doesn't know. Both Mr. Roarke and I thought it was better she be kept in the dark, because the last thing we want is to devastate her if this somehow doesn't work out. You didn't tell your uncle, did you?"

"No, Uncle Christian doesn't know either," Anna-Kristina assured him. "As I said, only my sisters. I have to tell you, if this goes through, it's going to be wonderful for us all. Marina's different now from how she was when Pappa married her off to Uncle Christian. At that time she was slowly dying of some terminal disease, and she was serene, accepting, the most docile person I've ever met. Then she and her father were cured, and her whole personality seemed to change. She's still quite nice, but she's no longer docile and certainly not very serene. She stands up to my father against anything and everything, she suddenly talks _all the time_, and she's the one who set him straight on her marriage to Uncle Christian—without mincing words, I heard." She sighed. "I have to admit, if this works, it will be a relief to see her go back to Italy for good."

"Sounds pretty contentious at times," Rogan offered distractedly, trying not to be intimidated by the sheer size of the foyer. Though they spoke softly, their voices still echoed gently off the walls. "You're very sure you can get your father to see me?"

"Yes, I made certain to put the appointment on his schedule," Anna-Kristina said. "Since I insisted that the succession pass to my sister Gabriella, I've been Pappa's secretary. That way I can be prepared to make my own way eventually."

"Devious," Rogan said, grinning. "Here, since you're so deep in this…why don't you give this a once-over." He handed her his proposal notes. "My wife and I drew this up together a few days ago, and I can only hope it's persuasive enough."

Anna-Kristina scanned them, checked the contract Rogan and Roarke had drawn up together, and grinned widely when she saw the next-to-last clause. "Priceless!" she cried. "This will truly free Uncle Christian. I hope you won't mind if I sit in on your meeting."

"I'd welcome your support," Rogan said, eyeing her thoughtfully. "But listen, before we do this, I want you to test my product against what you currently import, and let me know if you notice a difference—and whether one seems better than the other."

Anna-Kristina smiled. "We can do that right away. My sisters and mother and I were having a late lunch, and there's ice cream for dessert. We can put some on that and make the comparison then."

In a massive dining room, she introduced him to her mother, Queen Kristina, and her younger sisters, Gabriella and Margareta. They greeted him, the princesses with excited smiles that confirmed they were in on the secret, and urged him to take a chair. Rogan watched, his gut roiling again, while the three sisters did a blind comparison.

Queen Kristina, who was watching, studied them curiously and said something in _jordiska_, to which Anna-Kristina replied at some length. Kristina grinned, nodded at Rogan and excused herself; her daughter giggled. "She wished us good luck, and she hopes we win our fight," she told Rogan.

Rogan smiled. "Another one on my side…that's good to know. So, what's the verdict, then? You may as well put me out of my misery."

"There's a less sharp flavor to this one," said Anna-Kristina thoughtfully, indicating the right-hand half of her bowl. Like her sisters, she had sprinkled each source over half her ice cream. "I think it lets the flavor of the food shine through better, too. What about you?"

"I agree with you," Gabriella spoke up. "The right-hand half of my ice cream tastes much better than the other."

Margareta nodded vigorously. "So which half is yours?" she asked.

"You lasses have given me a great deal of hope," Rogan said, grinning broadly at them. "The half you like better is mine." The three princesses cheered, and he laughed.

"Don't forget to let us know what happens," Gabriella reminded her sister as she and Rogan got to their feet. "It's really time all this came to an end."

Anna-Kristina nodded. "As soon as I have the official word," she promised.

The churning began again in Rogan's gut as he followed Anna-Kristina out of the dining room and across the enormous reception hall through which everyone entered the castle. "Is King Arnulf as unreasonable as he's been made out to be?" he couldn't help asking.

Anna-Kristina paused in the middle of the hall and looked curiously at him. "I suppose it depends on who you are and what you want," she said. "Marina, for example, has always been able to get away with everything…and Uncle Christian can't even take a deep breath without my father scolding him for it, it seems. I myself fall somewhere in the middle. He's a terribly old-fashioned man, but it's possible to make him see reason; it's only that it can take some time."

"Then maybe we'd better send for a couple pitchers of water," Rogan said, glancing back at the dining room. "I already have a case of dry mouth, and having to speak at length will just make it worse."

Anna-Kristina nodded. "I'll take care of it. Wait here, and I'll go into Pappa's office with you when the servant brings it out."

Rogan took the opportunity to peer around the great entry hall; it stretched up into what seemed like the very sky, and was heavily monochromatic with its gray stone, ivory marble floor, and black wrought-iron hand railing along the second-floor balconies that ran the length of either side of the hall. About a dozen chairs on each side lined the walls, and Rogan supposed the king liked to leave all visitors sitting there awaiting his leisure. He scowled to himself. Someone he once knew used to advise him, "Never let 'em see you sweat, Rogan, old man. No matter if he's a janitor or a king, he's just a human being, same as you and me. He's still gotta get up and stand in the john every morning." As soon as the last line scrolled through his memory, he let out a laugh. His buddy had been right, as usual, and he relaxed. The simple fact here was that the king had to have the stuff just to stay alive; if Rogan could beat the count's price, he'd just about have a sure thing.

Anna-Kristina came out with two servants, one bearing a pitcher and a pair of tumblers, the other carrying a tray each of sandwiches and cookies. "This should help," she said, "and my father can have some too, so that everyone is comfortable. His office is that last door near the corner over there. Follow me."

Rogan and the servants trailed her to the door, on which she tapped before calling to her father and pushing it open. She stepped inside; Rogan and the servants squeezed in after her, and the princess shoved the heavy door closed again while the servants placed their burdens on a corner table and Rogan took in the large but windowless room. It, like the others, had stone walls, in this case hung with tapestries that looked to Rogan as if they dated from the Viking era. They were faded, frayed and undoubtedly fragile.

His eyes skipped to the figure behind the desk. King Arnulf II was studying him without expression; he was a surprisingly slight man, very pale, with mostly gray hair and permanent lines carved on either side of his mouth. He struck Rogan, upon first glance, as being careworn, under a burden he could never shrug off.

"This is your one-o'clock appointment, Pappa," Anna-Kristina said.

Rogan offered a slight bow. "Rogan Callaghan, Your Majesty," he said.

Arnulf nodded back, without changing expression. "Please be seated," he said in a thick, rolling _jordisk_ accent. "You need not call me 'Your Majesty' each time you address me. I believe the English word is 'sire', is it not? That will be enough."

"As you will, sire," Rogan agreed, taking one of the large heavy chairs in front of the desk and placing his briefcase down beside it. The case had been Julie's suggestion; she had apparently figured it would make him look more professional. To Rogan it was only an affectation, but since he was dealing with royalty he guessed it couldn't hurt. In any case, it had come in handy for transporting his notes, copies of the contract he and Roarke had so painstakingly written together, and several spice jars of his very first carefully harvested crop of amakarna.

Anna-Kristina ensconced herself in the other chair and made herself comfortable. Her father glanced at her but evidently didn't object to her presence. "I understand you have a business proposal?" he asked of Rogan.

"I do, sire," Rogan said and lifted the briefcase onto his lap, where he opened it and withdrew one of the spice jars. "I reside on Fantasy Island and operate a greenhouse there, specializing in rare and exotic spices. Just recently I finally achieved the right mix of conditions and soil to successfully grow amakarna, and I present to you a sample of my first crop." He closed the case in order to reach across the desk to hand Arnulf the jar; the king took it, staring in visible surprise.

"There has been only one source as far back as anyone knows," Arnulf said slowly, rotating the jar in his hands and examining the contents. "Now you tell me you are an alternate source?"

"Yes, sire," Rogan said. "Admittedly, a brand-new one, but an alternate source all the same. I've worked on this for a full year, and the results are excellent."

"They are, Pappa," Anna-Kristina broke in. "Briella and Magga and I tried some of it, and it tastes far better than what the count sends us. Try some and taste for yourself!"

Arnulf gave his daughter another surprised look. "You sound very certain."

"Of course," she said, eyeing him as only one of his own offspring could get away with doing. "Mr. Callaghan gave us the chance to compare his spice and the count's side by side. Mr. Callaghan's is much better."

Arnulf returned his attention to the spice jar, rotating it again, turning it upside down to peer at the bottom, then removing the top and taking a cautious sniff. He blinked in amazement, his eyes widening, and sniffed again. "It has a milder scent than the spice we use currently," he said.

"Yes, doesn't it smell lovely?" Anna-Kristina agreed, springing out of her chair and taking a cookie off one of the waiting trays. "Try it on this."

Rogan watched her in amusement; she seemed to be doing all the selling for him. She handed the cookie to the king, who tapped a few fine grains of the spice out of the jar atop the dessert and then took a bite. Unconsciously Rogan tensed with anticipation.

The king sat there and chewed the cookie for what seemed to be an abnormally long time; he finally swallowed, ruminated silently for a few seconds, then ate the rest of the cookie in frustrating slow motion. Anna-Kristina sighed loudly; Rogan forced himself to be patient. No point in blowing the sale now…

Once more Arnulf swallowed, and then smiled, completely unexpectedly. "You are correct, Anna-Kristina," he said, "this spice is of an excellent quality. I too can taste a great difference from the count's product." He gestured toward the trays. "Bring me a sandwich, then, and when I have tried it on that, I will give you the verdict."

Could it be that simple? Rogan would have held his breath, but now that he'd seen how the king took his time about eating, he knew he'd faint before Arnulf had finished chewing his first bite. He shifted a bit in his chair, trying not to look obvious about it, and waited in silence. Anna-Kristina lost patience after her father took his second bite, got up and took a sandwich for herself. "Would you care for one, Mr. Callaghan?" she asked.

"No, but thank you, Your Highness," Rogan said with a quick smile. Anna-Kristina resumed her seat, appropriated the spice jar and sprinkled some on her sandwich, which she then proceeded to devour with exaggerated noises of enjoyment that had Rogan fighting not to laugh. Her father gave her a long stare, but she simply smiled angelically at him and popped the last bite into her mouth.

"Absolutely wonderful," she announced. "I wouldn't mind being hooked on amakarna if it were this. The count's leaves a peppery aftertaste."

Arnulf eyed her again, just a trace of amusement glimmering in his eyes. "No one likes a pushy salesman," he said drolly. In spite of himself, Rogan's laughter escaped.

Grinning briefly, Arnulf turned his attention back to Rogan and said, "I am very interested in obtaining your spice. As my daughter says, this is of excellent quality, and it allows the flavor of the food to come through, rather than masking it." With another glance at the princess, he admitted, "And yes, the count's spice does leave a strange taste after it has been swallowed, whereas yours does not." He pulled open a drawer in the desk and poked around in it for a moment or two, till he extracted a folder and opened it. "This is the current contract with the count," he said, lifting it and peering at it critically, as if searching for something. "I don't believe there will be a problem with breaking this, especially if the price is right."

Anna-Kristina sat up in excitement and beamed at him. "That's wonderful, Pappa!"

"Have you a contract I may examine?" Arnulf asked.

"That I do, sire," said Rogan and took out one of the copies. "However…before we reach an agreement on a price and sign our respective copies, there is one point I must make particular reference to; the clause is in the contract." At Arnulf's quizzical look, he drew in a deep breath and said, "My only ironclad stipulation for activating the contract is that you free your brother, Prince Christian, from his arranged marriage."

Arnulf went completely still and stared at Rogan with astonished eyes. Rogan calmly returned the gaze, exerting all his control to keep from breaking first. _He's still gotta get up and stand in the john every morning._ Surely he wasn't that cruel…


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- January 6, 2001 – Lilla Jordsö

The snow flurries had turned into ice pellets that rattled against the large window in Christian's living room. Engrossed in updating the royal family's website with the latest formal royal portraits and photos of Gerhard's and Cecilia's weddings, he barely noticed the weather. The phone rang and Marina called, "Should I answer that?"

"Please," Christian called back absently, rearranging the scanned pictures on his test page and shaking his head. Maybe he should create an entirely new page just for the king and queen, and—

"Christian, the phone is for you," said Marina loudly.

"All right," he muttered, sighing and rolling his chair back to grab the nearby extension. In _jordiska_ he said briskly, "This is Christian."

"Were you busy, _lill'bror_?" asked Arnulf's voice. "I hope not…I have news for you."

_Oh no, not another promotional trip!_ Christian squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, barely restraining a frustrated groan. "Oh?" he prodded without interest, figuring he might as well get it over with.

"Yes." Arnulf cleared his throat, and it occurred to Christian that his older brother sounded…strange, somehow; maybe it was all the hemming and hawing, completely alien to Arnulf. Christian's senses went on high alert. It must be worse than a promotional trip, but he couldn't actually think of anything that would qualify as such.

Finally Arnulf told him, "I've just signed a brand-new contract to import amakarna." He paused again while Christian rolled his eyes. Just before he would have asked why he was supposed to care, Arnulf went on, "We have a new supplier, actually. I am breaking the contract with Marina's father effective immediately…but the new contract does not take effect until I have delivered the news to you."

"What news?" Christian asked, now truly curious.

More throat-clearing, which made Christian shift impatiently in his chair. In the background he heard a female voice making urgent mutterings, and suddenly grinned. It sounded like Anna-Kristina. If Arnulf had witnesses to whatever announcement he was about to impart, there'd be no way he could get out of delivering it. "Arnulf, for heaven's sake," Christian said in amusement, "just say it. It can't be that hard."

Arnulf muttered a particularly strident _jordisk_ curse, startling Christian, who rarely heard the king swear, and never quite so viciously. At last he said, "All right. You should tell Marina immediately. You are both free to end your marriage and go your separate ways."

Christian froze in his chair, his eyes slowly going enormous with shock as the words sank in. "Just like that?" he asked hesitantly. After all this time, he barely dared believe it.

"Not quite…of course, you and Marina will have to come to the castle and sign paperwork, and begin divorce proceedings as soon as it's convenient for you," Arnulf said, now sounding cordial. Christian's shock doubled. "But I will expedite the process for you."

All Christian could think to say was, "This isn't April Fool's Day, is it?"

On the other end, Arnulf actually burst out laughing, stunning Christian triply now. He honestly couldn't remember ever hearing Arnulf laugh like that. "No, _lill'bror,_ it certainly is not! This is no joke, no hoax. You are no longer required to be married to Marina, nor she to you. As soon as we are finished here, I will be calling the count's representative in Sundborg and explaining that I am terminating his contract. When do you two wish to come here and start the proceedings?"

"Is there any free time on this afternoon's schedule?" Christian demanded, bounding out of the chair and rushing to the coat closet. "We can leave this minute."

"Then come over, by all means," Arnulf agreed. "We will see you soon."

Christian broke the connection, tossed the phone onto the sofa and yanked his winter overcoat off its hanger. "Marina, get dressed, we're going to the castle!"

Marina came out of the kitchen with several local restaurant menus in one hand, watching him in perplexity. "Why?"

"That was Arnulf. Marina, he's broken the contract with your father. We can end our marriage, and you can go to Giancarlo and I can go to Leslie!"

Marina's mouth fell wide open and she gasped. "It's really true?"

"Yes, it is! Hurry, get your coat on, we're leaving to file the paperwork this instant." Christian's hands were shaking as he tried to button the coat, and with a half-laughing curse he started over while Marina fled to her bedroom to change.

Marina's flabbergasted reaction lasted all the way to the castle; but as soon as they entered the reception hall, she broke into a run, making Christian follow suit just to keep up. They were both laughing all the way to Arnulf's office, where they skidded to a breathless halt and burst through the door. Rogan had left, but Anna-Kristina was still there, looking on as Arnulf spoke in his usual imperious way to someone on the phone. Christian realized almost instantly that he was in the process of officially terminating the count's contract, and finally let himself believe it was real. Anna-Kristina beamed at them when they half-fell through the doorway, and they both grinned back.

While Arnulf spoke, he pulled out a stapled sheaf of papers and pushed it across the desk at Christian, who had managed to snag the empty chair. Christian picked it up and skimmed the wordy document curiously while Marina peered at it over his shoulder and Arnulf finally wound up the call with a command in his most royally wrathful tone.

"I will help you rush your divorce," he said to Marina.

Marina smiled sweetly. "Oh, we won't have to complete that much paperwork. You see, Christian and I have never had marital relations, so we merely need an annulment."

Christian grinned at Arnulf's reaction; the king goggled at her, his face reddening. Then he shook his head and chuckled. "Oh, now, that can't be possible."

"It is," Marina said, reminding Christian of the serene Mona Lisa persona she'd worn when their marriage had been announced on global television. "You will need proof, of course, so you should certainly call in a doctor to make the appropriate examination."

Arnulf's face got even redder, but he protested, "I can't see how! You and Christian came to me together the morning after your marriage was finalized and told me…"

"Oh, that was only a ruse," Christian said, shrugging. "You had told me I couldn't leave the country again till the marriage was consummated, and neither Marina nor I was interested in being that close. After all, we have both been in love with others from the very beginning. It was necessary for me to tell Leslie exactly what the situation was, and in order to do that I insisted on having the wedding reception on Fantasy Island…do you remember that? We had to tell you that so I could get off Lilla Jordsö."

Arnulf sighed and shook his head. "So you two have played me for a fool from the very beginning."

Marina smiled again. "We needed to find a way to cope with the situation, and we both found it necessary to tell our loves. But all through this, Giancarlo's and my love has grown stronger…so has Christian and Leslie's, perhaps even more so."

"Who is this Leslie?" Arnulf asked.

"Leslie Hamilton," Christian told him, saying the name with a soft reverence. "She is Mr. Roarke's daughter, and very soon she'll be my wife."

Arnulf stared at his brother, as if really seeing him for the very first time. "And your Giancarlo?" he finally asked Marina.

The young woman smiled dreamily. "I have loved Giancarlo Ognissanti since I was just nine years old. He is the son of a very old and respected family in my hometown, and his father and mine have been friends for ages. Soon Giancarlo and I will be husband and wife, just as Christian and Leslie will, and I look forward to my wedding night."

Christian grinned again when Arnulf's face, just returning to normal, grew florid all over again. Anna-Kristina laughed outright. "I'll call the castle doctor, Pappa," she said and swiftly made the call, then added happily, "When he confirms what Marina and Uncle Christian say, they need only to sign a piece of paper and they are free, right?"

Arnulf nodded, but he still looked skeptical. "I just can't believe that."

"We are friends, and no more than that," Christian told him. "It wasn't so hard."

The doctor arrived in short order and left the room with Marina; Christian gave his brother the divorce document and made himself comfortable in the chair, glancing around and then spotting the sandwiches. "Where did those come from?"

"Help yourself," Anna-Kristina said. "We were testing the new amakarna on them."

Christian got up and retrieved two sandwiches and a couple of cookies. "So tell me about this 'new' amakarna, and about its supplier. How did all this happen?"

"The man's name is Rogan Callaghan—he's from Fantasy Island, and you've probably even met him," Anna-Kristina said excitedly. "All last year, he worked on cultivating his own crop of amakarna. I don't know what he did or how he did it, but his spice is highly superior to the count's. Not only that, but Mr. Callaghan offered a better price. It was a bargain Pappa couldn't resist. And the best part is, Mr. Callaghan wrote it into the contract that Pappa had to allow you and Marina to be divorced and join your true loves!"

Christian slowly shook his head in wonder, devouring the last sandwich. "As soon as I see him, I must thank him," he said. "He's done us all a great service. In any case, once Marina's purity is confirmed and we've signed the annulment form, I intend to be gone from here in a week at most. Which reminds me…Arnulf, I need whatever paperwork is required to officially relinquish my title of prince."

"Can you rush that too, Pappa?" Anna-Kristina asked hopefully. "And Uncle Christian, let me know when you leave. I want to go with you—I want to be there for your wedding to Leslie."

"Did I tell you you could take time off?" Arnulf asked, with an unaccustomed indulgence that astonished Christian yet again. He found himself hoping Arnulf's mellow mood lasted till he could complete all the preparations to move to Fantasy Island, and watched his brother go methodically through a desk drawer till he located the documentation in question and handed it to Christian. "Read that carefully before you sign it, _lill'bror_. There are clauses in it that make the relinquishment conditional—if somehow something should ever happen to all of the rest of the family, you would be required to return here and take over the throne as ruling monarch." Christian looked up, nodded and scanned the three pages till he found the clause Arnulf was referring to.

"Gabriella would never let it happen," giggled Anna-Kristina. "She wants too badly to be queen. I'm so happy it will be Briella. She'll make a wonderful ruler."

"I must have been a terrible father," Arnulf remarked to Christian, who paused long enough to stare at his brother in new surprise at his levity. "This child of mine is already wishing I were dead…since that's the only way Gabriella can ascend the throne."

"Pappa, that's horrible!" cried Anna-Kristina. "It's not even true!"

Christian laughed aloud. "I realize you'll find this difficult to swallow, Anna-Kristina, but your father's teasing you!" Anna-Kristina's shocked expression made both brothers burst out laughing.

Just as Christian completed reading the document and was reaching for a pen to sign it, the doctor and Marina returned. "Sire, I beg to report to you that Princess Marina is yet a virgin," the doctor said formally and bowed.

Arnulf sighed deeply and shook his head in wonder. "I could never have believed it, but when a professional says it's true, then I must accept it. Very well…sign this, both of you; Anna-Kristina, you will sign as a witness, and I will sign it to make it official and binding that your marriage is annulled."

Marina signed the annulment agreement first while Christian finished his own paperwork; then papers changed hands and signatures were rapidly added to various documents. Arnulf carefully examined the annulment agreement, then smiled and said quietly, "Marina LiSciola and Christian Carl Tobias Enstad, your union is now legally dissolved, from this moment: and Christian, as soon as your paperwork has been properly processed by the parliamentary government, you will also no longer be a prince of Lilla Jordsö."

"So quickly, lives change," Christian murmured with a smile that then became a grin of anticipatory excitement. "I can't wait to see Leslie's face!"

"Neither can I," Anna-Kristina exclaimed and jumped out of her chair. "Pappa, I _will_ be going to the wedding, no matter what. After all, since Uncle Christian soon won't be a prince, someone has to be there to officially represent Lilla Jordsö."

"You may as well let her go," Christian said in amusement. "She's very stubborn."

Arnulf chuckled quietly and admitted, "She comes by it honestly. I wish you both much happiness in your new marriages."


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- January 15, 2001 – Fantasy Island

Roarke and Leslie were enjoying a late, leisurely breakfast on the veranda, basking in the quiet of a Monday morning and enjoying the fresh breeze that drifted through from time to time. Leslie yawned long and large over her plate and then grinned a little sheepishly at Roarke's odd look. "I must still be tired," she said. "I've been running around so much the last five days that I think I could sleep the rest of the day away. I mean, I haven't even had a chance to just sit down and read!"

"Well, if you'd prefer to go back to bed, I won't stop you," Roarke said as a jeep came around the bend in the lane, "but I daresay you may not wish to do so, if my guess is correct." Leslie peered at him oddly, but had no chance to speak, for the jeep came to a stop in front of the house and a familiar figure carrying something in one hand leaped out of the passenger side, scaling the steps in one jump and striding rapidly in their direction. Leslie bolted out of her chair and ran to meet him.

"Christian!" she cried in delight. "You said you couldn't come back till the end of the winter! Did you get a reprieve or something?"

"You might say that," Christian said, laughing and hugging her hard. "You can't imagine how wonderful it is to see you again, my Leslie Rose."

"How long can you stay this time?" she asked.

Christian regarded her impishly and inquired, "How does 'forever' sound?"

"For—??" she began, but before the word could completely sink in, he drew back long enough to shake open the folded newspaper in his hand and hold it up to display its headline at her. It was a copy of that morning's _Fantasy Island Chronicle_, and the headline stated in large black block letters, LILLA JORDSÖ PRINCE DIVORCED.

Leslie gawked at the paper, her lower jaw sinking, her eyes popping and her hands drifting up to cover her open mouth. Then her gaze shot up to meet Christian's; his face was alight with glee, his infectious grin all but splitting it in two.

"You mean…you…you…you're _free?_ We can…we can…we can…" she stammered, so stunned that she was on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Yes, we can!" Christian exclaimed, nodding vigorously. "Marina has already married her man, as I understand it. Shall we follow her lead, my Leslie Rose?"

"_Yes!"_ she shrieked and threw herself at him; he caught her, laughing all over again for the sheer joy of it. "Oh, Christian, my God, it's a…it must be a miracle! How did it…what happened? How is it possible?"

Christian met Roarke's gaze over her shoulder and returned his wink with an A-OK sign. "Well, I see you're in the middle of breakfast, and they didn't feed me on the charter—nor even on the flight from Los Angeles to Honolulu last night! I'm starved, so perhaps you'd let me join you and Mr. Roarke and I can explain it over the meal."

"Of course! Come on, sit over here," Leslie exclaimed, shaky with joy and disbelief. She and Christian took their usual chairs and Christian began to fill a plate, while his final sentence suddenly registered with her and she stared at Roarke. "Father, did you know about all this?"

"Oh, I've known for over a year," Roarke said casually and laughed at her expression. "You have your cousin Rogan to thank for all this, to answer one of your questions. For the past year he has been quietly laboring over his own amakarna crop."

Again Leslie gaped; something in her told her she was likely to be stunned quite a bit this morning. "Rogan was…? But I don't understand! Amakarna doesn't like the soil here, so how could he possibly grow it?"

"Quite simple: he spent the first month merely analyzing the local dirt. It seems that if it's allowed to rest for a time, spread out in a shallow layer in a dark room, something about its character changes. I found it somewhat strange myself when Rogan explained to me that the component that normally kills the plant evaporates under these conditions. But as it turned out, that was only the first step. When he had enough soil to work with, he then found that the plants did not produce fruit, and made a trip to Italy to find out what the vital ingredient might be. He never did tell me whether he actually infiltrated the count's greenhouses, but I wouldn't put it past him."

Leslie and Christian laughed. "That'd be typical Rogan," Leslie agreed. "So did he find the missing link?"

Roarke nodded. "Italy lies on an active seismic zone, and there is much rich soil there. So when Rogan returned home, he gathered some soil from around Mount Tutumoa and let it rest as before. He was closer to the mark then, but as has been noted in the past, amakarna is not easy to grow. All through the year he tested plant after plant, using as seed the small supply of amakarna he brought here with him."

Christian paused in the middle of raising his fork. "How can that be? The spice can act as a seed, then?" he asked curiously.

"Yes," Roarke said, "as long as it is not too finely ground. The contents of the jar he had were the consistency of common table salt, a distinctly granular texture that can be used to cultivate new plants. As late as last month he wasn't at all certain he would ever succeed in taming the species; but on New Year's Eve, Leslie, shortly after you retired for the night, he came rushing here to announce that he had conquered the plant at last and had a thriving crop, enough to offer it for sale. And he told me without further ado that he intended his first customer to be King Arnulf, for he wanted nothing more than to bring yours and Christian's long wait to an end at last."

Leslie, dazed, shook her head in wonder. "He had no reason to do that, and yet he did it anyway," she said softly. "I've got to remember to thank him."

"Indeed," Roarke agreed. "Well, now that you have the story as I know it, perhaps Christian can take over while we finish our meal. After all, there's a wedding to plan."

"How long have you known about this?" Leslie asked Christian then.

"Not much longer than you have, my Leslie Rose," Christian said, chuckling at the memory. "The last eight days have been among the most hectic of my life. The Saturday before last, I got a phone call from Arnulf, completely out of nowhere, announcing that he had signed a new contract and Marina and I were free to end our marriage. Naturally, we rushed right over to the castle and did the deed, and walked out as two single individuals. The paperwork that officiates my giving up the right to be called a prince is still pending, and I imagine it will take a while, knowing how slow government is. At any rate, the moment we got back to my flat in the city, Marina got in touch with her boyfriend to tell him the news, and as soon as she hung up with him, she ran to her room and began to pack like something possessed. It was truly amazing. In less than ninety minutes she had cleaned out every single one of her belongings from her room and was ready to leave for Italy—which she did in very short order. It was a strange leave-taking…we wished each other luck, and shook hands, and then she picked up her luggage and walked out of my life. She didn't even want me to help her carry her bags nor take her to the airport." He grinned. "It seems she wanted to be quit of me right then and there. In all honesty, I was just as happy about it. I had forgotten what it was like to have my own apartment to myself!"

Leslie laughed. "So then what did you do?"

"I spent the rest of that first day on the phone," Christian said, speaking to Roarke as well as Leslie. "The biggest thing came first: arranging to have my furniture shipped here to the island. Naturally, that has to be done by boat, and I was told first thing that it would take at least four months and as much as six. Telling them who I was made no difference." He caught Roarke's amused glint and said in an ironic aside, "Yes, I know, a taste of my future life as ordinary Christian Enstad. Well, in any case, they told me they would be happy to come out and pick up whatever I planned to ship. We should have a good start, Leslie: my bed is on its way, along with a sofa, my computer desk and chair, two end tables and a coffee table, a dining table and four chairs, a dresser with mirror, a chest of drawers, and a curio cabinet my mother willed to me—complete with a few curios."

"But we don't have a place to put all that yet," Leslie said, eyes widening with realization. "We don't have a house…"

"There's time to discuss that," Roarke said. "Let's take things in order and let Christian finish telling his tale first."

Christian smiled and took a sip of orange juice. "I'm looking forward to that little discussion, actually…but you're right, first things first. I next called a real-estate agency and listed the flat for sale; and when that was done, I gathered together the things I knew I couldn't take with me and began calling relatives. Anna-Kristina now has the computer I so painstakingly programmed to suit my needs and quirks, and she's promised to take good care of it. She came with me, by the way—she insisted that she must be here for our wedding, and she's at the bungalow, sleeping or something. Other things, such as small kitchen appliances, lamps and the like, went to Gerhard and Liselotta or to Cecilia and Axel, along with a few odds and ends that I really didn't want or need any longer. I did keep a couple of paintings I bought years ago, and I packed and shipped things like bed linens and towels, pots, pans and some dishes, and what-have-you. My clothing, though, I brought along with me—it took up four suitcases. Anna-Kristina had to pretend one of them was hers so that I didn't have to pay extra freight." They all laughed. "I told Arnulf at the time we signed the annulment papers that I meant to be out of the country in a week at most. It took me longer than that because I had to make rearrangements with my company. I hired two extra techs, gave Jörgen—my manager—a raise, and told him to hire a receptionist to take calls and make appointments. Everything will be conducted over e-mail for a while where that location is concerned. And today, if possible, I need to at least pay a visit to my office here and make sure everything is going smoothly. I must say, Mateo Apana is a truly excellent manager; he has kept in faithful touch with me all this time, seen to it that operations go well and given me regular progress reports. But it will be nice to get a firsthand look at it." He drank down a goodly amount of his juice.

Leslie asked, "How long do you think that'll take? As Father said, there's a wedding to plan. And I want to do it soon."

"Next weekend?" Christian offered.

"No," she said and rolled her eyes.

He raised an eyebrow. "How about tomorrow then?"

"No," Leslie said again, biting her lip, her voice softening as she gazed at him. "I'd rather marry you this very second."

Christian's features relaxed into a smile and he wrapped one hand around hers. "If truth be told, I'd prefer that myself, even if only to prevent Arnulf from coming up with some new stranger out of the woodwork to marry me off to."

"But," Roarke broke in, speaking mainly to his daughter, "tomorrow will be quite soon enough. I'm sure you would both prefer that it be done properly."

Christian and Leslie regarded each other wistfully, then broke into sheepish grins at the same moment. "You're right, Father," Leslie admitted, backed up by Christian's nod. "I need a nice dress, for one thing, and for another, we need to call the minister at that little church in Amberville." She turned to Christian. "Tattoo gave me away when I married Teppo, and Father performed the wedding ceremony. This time I want Father to give me away to you. He shouldn't have to do any more work than that."

"What about attendants?" Roarke asked.

Leslie glanced at Christian. "I'm not sure what you had in mind, but I was thinking, no real attendants, just witnesses. I'll ask all my friends, and we should have Julie and Rogan there, and of course Anna-Kristina. If there's someone you want to ask…"

"I think you've covered everyone," Christian said, grinning. "My thoughts have been running towards a quiet wedding, too. I already had the big fussy ceremony once, when I was married to Johanna; and I remember feeling overwhelmed for days afterward. But I don't want it sneaked up on me from behind, as with Marina. I want it done right, but there's no need to have half the world attending the thing."

"But you must have a reception," said Roarke, looking at some point off to their left, "if only to appease the rest of the island." Christian and Leslie looked around and saw Mariki bringing her serving cart out from the kitchen; she blinked at sight of Christian.

"Well, if it isn't Prince Christian! When did you get in, Your Highness?" she asked.

"About half an hour ago," Christian chuckled. "Hello, Mariki, it's good to see you again. Breakfast was delicious."

Mariki beamed. "Thank you…and so, how long are you here?"

"You mean you haven't seen the local paper?" Leslie asked, amazed. "I thought I was the last one to know. Christian's divorced from Marina, and he's here for good. Tomorrow we're getting married."

"Oh my goodness." Mariki gaped at them in astonishment. "It finally happened. Well, I heard Mr. Roarke say something about a reception, and you can rest assured there's going to be the biggest one we've ever put on. Even if you two elope, you're still going to be the guests of honor at this party, so you'd both just better resign yourselves."

"Listen," said Leslie, "as far as I'm concerned, the reception is all yours to plan, along with whoever else wants to get in on this thing. We've already pretty much decided on all the details of the wedding, and it'll be quiet, so knock yourselves out."

Mariki grinned broadly and actually rubbed her hands together with glee. "Then you'd better brace yourselves," she warned happily and started clearing dishes off the table, while Christian and Leslie burst out laughing and Roarke chuckled with them, shaking his head indulgently.


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § -- January 15, 2001

Between Mariki and the newspaper headline, the fact of Christian's newly obtained freedom and the impending wedding was common knowledge from one end of the island to the other before the lunch hour. Breakfast, as it turned out, was the last time Christian and Leslie really had together for the bulk of that day, for he went off to his office, and shortly thereafter, Leslie's friends flocked over to the main house in ones or twos till all of them were there: Myeko, Maureen, Lauren, Camille, Tabitha and Katsumi. Lauren told Leslie that she'd informed Michiko via e-mail, and according to her, Michiko was already on her way from Arcolos. Leslie had e-mailed Frida as well, and had been amazed to hear that she, too, was planning to come. It would bring Leslie and all eight of her friends together in the same place for the first time.

"So where'd the groom take off to?" Camille asked, looking around the study.

"He wanted to do an in-depth check on his office in town," Leslie told her. "I don't think he really needs to do anything much for the wedding. He's going to wear official royal attire, probably for the last time—you know, the uniform with all the assorted decorations and gold braid and whatever."

"I always wondered if that really was a military outfit," Tabitha admitted. "It was the same costume Prince Gerhard wore at his wedding, in white. But Christian's is black."

"Yep, that's the one he'll wear," Leslie said. "He had his stint in the military after his first wife died, but he did only the minimum requirement, which is six months in Lilla Jordsö. After that he got the royal military dress uniform."

"Well, now that we know what Christian's wearing to the wedding, what about you?" asked Maureen dryly, touching off laughter. "Not to mention us."

"Oh God," Lauren groaned. "No ugly bridesmaid dresses."

Leslie smirked. "Calm down, there won't be any bridesmaids, and no maid of honor. We're not having any attendants: you guys are all going to be witnesses, along with Frida and Michiko, and Julie and Rogan, and Christian's niece Anna-Kristina. That means you get to wear something pretty that you already own, so when you get back home, start hunting through your closets."

Katsumi brightened. "I think I will wear a kimono. It would be fun to do it somewhere besides the teahouse. I have a very festive one I kept when I left Japan."

"I don't know how festive I'm going to look," Tabitha admitted. She was now almost eight months pregnant, and tended to stand a little swaybacked with her hands folded atop her expanded midsection. "I might have to borrow a muumuu from Cristina's babysitter."

Her rueful comment set off giggles and groans. "I think you can do better than that. If Leslie already knows what she's got in mind for her dress, then we can look for something for you at the same time, Ms. Preggo," Myeko said affectionately. "And if this whole shindig is happening tomorrow, then we better get started right now."

The seven women took a brisk walk as a group down a shortcut trail to town, giving Tabitha impressed credit for keeping up with little trouble, and spent the next hour carefully scouring the lone bridal shop for something suitable for a second marriage. Only Myeko had any experience with second weddings, and hers had been more like her first should have been; so there was an enormous amount of speculation, many suggestions and ideas tossed out and discarded, and a collective case of slowly mounting frustration before Leslie finally had a vision and stood quietly, letting the picture develop in her mind. Her friends gradually became aware of her silence and watched her curiously.

"Did you think of something?" Maureen prodded.

"I think I've got it," Leslie said. "I'm pretty sure we saw a white dress somewhere around here, one we passed over because it just didn't look festive enough. But I think we can do something with it. Let's split up and look for it again."

It was Katsumi who found it and pulled it off a crowded rack of mismatched dresses, holding it up for inspection. "Leslie, is this the dress you saw?"

Leslie nodded excitedly and rushed across the store to inspect it at close range. Her friends gathered around her and peered critically at it. "It's so…plain," Camille said finally, shaking her head. "Almost like something you'd wear to a funeral."

While Katsumi held the hanger, Leslie checked the tag in the back and gasped. "No, wait a minute—this is pure silk, you guys! I think all we'd really need to do is maybe add a few lace frills—around the collar here, and at the cuffs, and added to the hem." She took the hanger from Katsumi and held the garment up against herself. It was a very unassuming piece of clothing; it had a plain round neckline without a collar, three-quarter-length sleeves and a gathered skirt that fell to mid-calf. A plain silk sash about an inch wide could be tied around the waist.

"I see what you're saying," Lauren said, suddenly excited. "If you have a couple inches of lace added at the bottom, it'll make the skirt ankle-length, and you can show off whatever shoes you're wearing."

"And they have to be heels," Maureen added sternly. "Brides _never_ wear flats."

"Oh, I did," Camille said smugly. "When I got married to Jimmy, I was wearing sneakers under my gown."

"You were not!" Lauren blurted, shocked. Leslie, Katsumi and Tabitha all exchanged startled looks and then began to giggle. At the time of Camille's wedding, Tabitha had yet to join their crowd; Katsumi had still been in Japan; and Leslie had been in the middle of her third year of marriage to Teppo and living in Finland.

"I was too," Camille said. "My freaking gown was so long it dragged the ground, so it was perfect for hiding my sneakers. So I went ahead and wore them, and nobody ever knew the difference—including that control freak of a wedding planner my mother hired."

Leslie was laughing. "That's so _you,_ Camille," she chortled, and Camille snickered acknowledgement. "Well, Maureen's right, though. I probably really should wear heels. It's not like I have to wear them every day, and it's a special occasion…" She let her voice trail off and smiled mistily. "The most special in my whole life, I think. I can't believe four and a half years of waiting is finally over. I keep having to tell myself it's really happening."

"It will be a lovely event," Katsumi said in her gentle Japanese accent. "And we all know that Myeko will bring a photographer from the newspaper so that you and Christian have many pictures to remember it." Giggles erupted again.

"Geez, Katsumi, under all that daintiness, you have a really wicked sense of humor," Myeko complained good-naturedly. "Well, okay, so you've got your dress, Leslie. Next up is those shoes Maureen mentioned. Who's going to put the lace on the dress?"

With the big decision made, everything else went off in short order. The shop's seamstress promised to complete the lace embellishments by the end of the day, and the owner helped Leslie choose a pair of shoes: understated white pumps that would allow the dress to stand out on its own. They then spent another twenty minutes hashing out the idea of some type of headdress. Leslie didn't want a veil, but she felt something was called for; and in the end, Tabitha shyly suggested, "I have a thought. You could get a decorative comb, about so long—" she held her hands about four inches apart— "and attach small white silk roses to it. I'd suggest real ones, but they'd wilt long before the ceremony."

"Roses, in honor of Christian's nickname for you," Lauren exclaimed.

"That's perfect!" Leslie cried. "Tabitha, you're a lifesaver!" The shop owner agreed and told her she would handle that project herself.

Having paid for the whole outfit, Leslie led her friends out the door and then regarded Tabitha. "What about you? You should have something really nice to wear to the wedding. You solved the headdress problem, so it's my treat."

"Oh, Leslie, you don't have to do that," Tabitha protested. "We're supposed to be the ones getting you wedding gifts, and here you are buying _me_ something!"

"Presents, huh," Leslie said, shrugging. "I suppose you guys are going to do what you like no matter what I say, but I have to warn you now, Christian and I don't even know where we're going to be living. His furniture's all on its way here by very slow boat, and I'm beginning to be afraid we're going to wind up sharing my room at the main house." She made a face that elicited laughter from her friends. "So don't bother with wedding presents, okay? There's nowhere to put them right now. Just let me do this for you, Tabitha, please, and don't argue with me. I know you and Fernando are trying to stock up for the baby, and it's not such a big thing."

Tabitha sighed. "Okay, but it'll have to be our secret. Fernando'll have a fit if he finds out how I came by a new dress now, especially when it's for a pregnant woman and I might not have a chance to wear it again for a long time."

"He never has to know," Leslie promised. "Come on, let's look around. Oh, do you mind if I poke my head in Christian's office door? If I'm lucky he'll be there."

Her friends agreed willingly enough and accompanied her along to the storefront that housed Christian's Fantasy Island office. They crowded inside, surprising the occupants, who at the moment consisted only of Julianne and Jonathan Ichino. "Hi, Miss Leslie," said Julianne and grinned. "Boss Prince has Mateo holed up in the back room going over all the business reports for the past year. I bet the poor guy'd love it if you gave him a break and distracted your fiancé!" They all laughed.

"Did you say 'Boss Prince'?" Leslie asked. "Soon he won't be a prince anymore, you know. He's just waiting for the official termination of his royal status."

"Aw, we can't call him by his first name," Jonathan said. "It wouldn't be right, you know? But he's such a laid-back guy, we figure we can rag him a little bit and call him 'Boss Prince'. He got a big kick out of it." He grinned at Camille. "Hi, sis, how're the men?"

"Doing good," Camille said. "I swear, David hates school more every year. Mom's got Craig over at her house." David was now 10½ and midway through fifth grade; Craig was almost four, and Camille had lately admitted to her friends that she and Jimmy were beginning to think about trying again for a daughter.

"Is David still teasing Haruko, Katsumi?" Julianne broke in.

Katsumi smiled. "Oh, it stopped a long time ago. Only a week after Haruko started the first grade here, she was playing with some little girls in her class, and David kicked a soccer ball at her. She stood up and threw it back at him. He was not ready for it, and it hit him in the stomach…" She grinned when Camille rolled her eyes.

"…and David upchucked right then and there," she finished the story, sending everyone into gales of laughter. "That was the last time he ever bothered Haruko. As much as he hates her now, it wouldn't surprise me if they get married in about fifteen years or so."

Giggling, Leslie separated herself from her friends. "Wait here, folks, I'll see if it's possible to drag Christian out of the dungeon." She headed for the back room, the door to which was clearly marked with a sign stating AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY, and went in to find Christian and Mateo standing in front of several file cabinets at the back of the room. Even from here she could see Mateo's discomfort; he was favoring his right leg, which had been so badly broken in his accident that he now had a permanent limp. She shook her head to herself. "Mateo, my gosh, you poor thing, go on out front and sit down. You look like you could use a nice long break."

At the sound of her voice, both men turned to stare at her; Christian looked surprised, and Mateo looked pathetically grateful. "Thank you, Miss Leslie," he said fervently and wasted no time making his escape, closing the door behind him.

Christian settled his stance and propped a hand on one hip, regarding Leslie with mock sternness. "You have the authority to boss around my employees, then?"

"Oblivious as ever," Leslie said affectionately, rolling her eyes. "Mateo was about to fall over from sheer fatigue. How long have you had him trapped in here, anyway?"

Christian smiled sheepishly. "At least two hours, maybe longer," he admitted. "But truly, my Leslie Rose, he insisted on demonstrating to me that he's kept meticulous records ever since this office was opened and I had to return to Lilla Jordsö last year. It was his idea, but then I got carried away, I guess. I may as well talk to Jonathan about the accounts, as long as you've rescued Mateo." He came to her and pulled her into a hug. "And what have you been doing all morning?"

"Taking care of my wedding outfit," she told him, returning the embrace and resting her head on his shoulder just to take in his unique, familiar scent. "Christian, my love, hasn't the jet lag kicked in yet? You should be even more worn out than Mateo."

"Not yet. I'm sure I'll feel it soon, though, now that you mention it." Christian sighed and rested his head atop hers. "I realize that tonight we'll be separated again—you in the main house and me in the bungalow with Anna-Kristina—but what about tomorrow night and all those that come after? We have nowhere to live, and I really do want to speak with Mr. Roarke about an idea I have." He smiled when she lifted her head to look quizzically up at him. "For years I've been mapping out plans for the kind of house I've always wanted to live in. I don't have actual blueprints, but I do have a small collection of sketches, and I want you to take a look at them and see if you'd like to make any changes or additions. Once we agree on something, we'll have to find a plot of land, then wait for the place to be built. And in the meantime, where are you and I supposed to go?"

"I don't know," Leslie admitted. "I'm not interested in taking up a bungalow or any of the other guest accommodations, especially on a long-term basis, and we'd be desperately crowded in my room at the main house—besides which, since it's Father's house, we'd have no privacy at all. And I'm sure he'd like to have some privacy too."

Christian chuckled. "Well, we can work that out later, I suppose. What are you planning to do now?"

"Well, Tabitha needs something for the wedding, so I offered to buy her a dress," she said. "I think after that we're going over to the B&B to pay Rogan a visit. I really need to thank him for giving us our happy ending."

"I should too," Christian mused, "but at the moment business demands my attention. While Mateo takes his well-earned break, I'll go harass Jonathan for a while. I think he deserves it, since he came up with that 'Boss Prince' business." He grinned in response to her laugh and started for the door, with an arm securely wrapped around her.

Leslie's friends greeted him effusively and welcomed him back to Fantasy Island, and he cheerfully shook hands with all of them and thanked them. "I understand all of you are going to be at our wedding tomorrow," he said.

"That's the plan," Camille told him. "We just need to find Tabitha something she can wear without resorting to wrapping herself in bedsheets or something."

"Then maybe I'd better let you get to work on that," Christian remarked, still with his arm around Leslie, "so I can put your brother on the hot seat about his accounting methods. Leslie reminded me that Mateo should rest—something I shamefully forgot—so I decided it's Jonathan's turn."

"I told you, Jon," Julianne said gleefully from her desk, cluttered with paper, framed photos and a wild collection of gewgaws. "It's payback for the 'Boss Prince' thing."

"Don't be too smug," Christian warned with a genial smile, "because you're next." Julianne's startled look evoked a round of laughter, amidst which Christian dropped a quick kiss on Leslie's mouth and murmured for her ears only, "We'll talk later, when we can finally be alone for a bit." She smiled and nodded.

After that the girls shopped around for something for Tabitha, at last unearthing a pretty dress with an understated floral pattern that flattered her in her late pregnancy, and then they went off to the B&B. Fourteen-month-old Rory was tearing around the side yard in a frenzy of energy while Julie watched, weeding the flower bed at the side of the house as she did so. She looked surprised to see the approaching group. "Is there a posse after me?" she kidded.

"No, after Rogan," Leslie kidded back, making Julie laugh. "Is he hiding in the greenhouse again? I wanted to talk to him for a minute."

"As always," Julie said indulgently. "Go on in." The girls trooped across the lawn to the greenhouse and filed in, threading their way through the tables and surprising Rogan, who was misting rows of tiny seedlings.

"And to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" he inquired.

"It's for what you did for Christian and me, cousin," Leslie said, making him pause and regard her seriously. "It's the most wonderful thing anyone's done for me since Father adopted me. Thank you, Rogan, thank you so much for ending our wait."

Rogan smiled. "I got the idea last year after uncle told me Christian broke things off in the belief that he'd never escape that arranged marriage," he explained. "It was just so bloody wrong, and I realized it was in my power to do something about it. I've always had a green thumb, but amakarna was the biggest challenge I've ever taken on."

"What the heck does amakarna look like, anyway?" Camille asked curiously. "I think the stuff has to be the rarest spice in the world…even more than saffron."

"That it is," Rogan said. "I keep it tucked away in the back room—it seems to like it in there. Just follow me." He put down his mister and led the procession into the back room, down between the tables of experimental plants, till he reached two new tables placed across the width rather than the length of the room. These were full of large, shallow pots, each crowded with small, odd-looking plants about four inches high.

Leslie stared at it with startled recognition. _"That's_ amakarna? I had no idea! I saw you working with it maybe two months ago, and you wouldn't tell me what it was!" It was the plant with the funny-looking leaves and the little brown nut-like growths that had so frustrated Rogan the previous October.

"I had a good reason for it," Rogan said. "If I told you that's what it was, it would have had you all worked up; and at the time I wasn't at all certain I could successfully grow the stuff. I didn't want to get your hopes up, in case I ultimately failed."

"I suppose this is the source of the spice itself," Leslie said, reaching out and gingerly fingering one of the little round fruits of the plant.

Rogan nodded. "It's really a very large seed. It can be ground to the consistency of ordinary table salt and still produce new plants. I discovered that if I ground it finely enough and let it sit for about a week in that state before I bottled it, I could produce a milder and better-tasting form of the spice. That, plus a few other elements that made my version different from the count's, finally won over the king."

"That's the strangest-looking plant," Maureen commented.

"Yeah…the leaves look like bunny ears," Lauren agreed.

Rogan laughed and said, "They do, don't they? It's definitely like no other plant in existence. This stuff is very picky about where it grows and what it grows in. I had to get all sorts of permissions from uncle before I even started trying, and it took me quite nearly the entire year to produce something I could market. And most of that was taken up just with getting the plants to stay alive and healthy. After I finally mastered that, playing with the end product was a piece of cake and actually rather fun."

"What does it taste like?" Tabitha asked.

"Don't try it," Rogan warned, smiling to temper the words. "It plays havoc with 99 of people; the only way most can tolerate it is if they're infants, which unfortunately has the side effect of making them dependent on it for life. And that's not much of a blessing, as I understand it. I was spared the need for it mainly due to the genetic influence of my mother, Lord rest her soul, but there are others out there who depend on it for their very lives; so I'm hoping to reach those folks. Meantime, I saw a chance to right a nasty wrong."

"Well, Christian and I are eternally grateful," Leslie said solemnly, giving him a quick hug. "If we can ever do anything for you, just ask."

"Just be happy," said Rogan, shrugging and turning red. "That's all I ask, and from all I've seen of you two, that won't be a problem. Now do you mind changing the subject?"

Leslie laughed. "You don't take gratitude too well, do you, cousin? Okay, okay, we'll consider it closed. But we really are very thankful. You do realize you and Julie are expected at the wedding tomorrow, don't you?"

"Oh?" said Rogan, grinning wickedly. "Julie must have overlooked that little detail. I'll have to give her what-for for that. Well enough, just let us know what time, and we'll be there. Meantime, I've work to do in here, so scat…and I mean that nicely."

"Sure you do," Leslie said and grinned. "That's all right, we're going out to have some lunch anyway and do a few more wedding-related things. See you later."


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § -- January 15, 2001

After having a long chatty lunch and going to the local florist to choose the flowers for Leslie's wedding bouquet, the girls returned to the bridal shop just to check on the progress of the wedding dress and were amazed to find the whole outfit complete. The shop owner insisted Leslie try the dress on; it took some coaxing from the other girls to make her finally give in and change in the dressing room. Even she was impressed at the way it looked on her; the dress somehow fit her perfectly, and the elegant open-weave lace that was draped around the collar, attached to the ends of the sleeves and the hem, and even sewn on the entire length of the outer side of the sash made a perfect touch. The shop owner carefully bagged the garment for her, and she took it home along with the shoes and the hair ornament that Tabitha had suggested.

The girls were surprised to find the main house deserted; even Roarke was out. "I thought for sure he'd be around," Leslie said, surprised. "I guess something came up."

"Where are you having the wedding?" Myeko asked.

"I think we'll have it on the terrace," Leslie said, gazing at it as she spoke. "Look how all the bushes are blooming right now. How could you have a more perfect setting?"

"It's just the right size for a quiet wedding, too," Maureen agreed.

The phone rang at that moment and Leslie picked it up. "Main house…Michiko!?" Her friends went alert with excitement. "Where are you?"

Michiko's voice laughed on the other end. "New York City, about to board a flight for Los Angeles. Errico pulled quite a few strings and got me on two Concorde flights—one from Rome to New York, the other from New York to L.A. I'll go directly to Honolulu from there and stay over before I catch tomorrow morning's first charter to Fantasy Island. I hope all the other girls will be there."

"They will," Leslie said. "In fact, they're all here with me watching me talk to you. And Frida's on her way too. If I can get hold of Father, I'm going to let him know I've decided the wedding should be at five, so Frida will have time to get in."

"That's perfect," Michiko exclaimed. "Tell the girls hi, and I'll see everybody in the morning. I expect all seven of you to show up, so warn them to get out of bed early."

Leslie laughed. "I will. See you tomorrow!" She hung up and relayed Michiko's message to the other girls, who exclaimed in envy over Michiko's flying the Concorde.

"Anything else we have to do?" Camille asked.

"I don't think so," Leslie said. "Why don't all of you head on home and see what you want to wear to the wedding tomorrow. I might go back to town and roust Christian out of that office of his so Mateo and Julianne and Jonathan can have a little peace."

But when she came in the door, she was surprised and a bit mystified to learn that Christian wasn't there. "He finished grilling me and then looked at his watch and said something about doing some really urgent errands," Jonathan said, shooting his sister a look across the room. "He completely forgot to cross-examine Julianne, and I'm kinda burned up about that."

"Too bad for you," Julianne said, grinning. Leslie snickered.

"No fighting, kids," she teased with an overly solicitous maternal tone that made both quads roll their eyes good-naturedly. "Where's Mateo?"

"Boss Prince took pity on him and sent him home for the day," Julianne told her. "In fact, he told us the office is closed tomorrow for your wedding, which is really cool of him."

"Yeah, he's an awesome guy all right," Jonathan agreed. "Hey, we can come to the reception, can't we? I know the wedding itself will be quiet, but we heard the reception's gonna be the biggest bash the island's seen in about fifty years."

"What?" Leslie said, staring at him.

Julianne grinned again and spoke up, "It's the island grapevine, Miss Leslie…you know. Some of the native girls clattered in here maybe half an hour after you and Camille and the others left, and they were all excited about celebrating the wedding. Turned out they got the word from the kitchen staff at the main house, and they were tearing around spreading it as fast as they could run from one shop to the next."

"Oh God, we've created a monster," Leslie groaned. "I gave Mariki _carte blanche_ and told her to knock herself out, and look what I get for it. Hey, well, come one, come all. It seems the reception's going to be an open house from the sound of it, so by all means, show up, and tell Jeremy and Jennette and your parents and whoever else you feel like blabbing at. You might as well." Her resigned tone got laughs from Julianne and Jonathan. "Well, if Christian comes back, tell him I was here looking for him." They nodded, and she left, now at loose ends and wondering what to do next.

In the end she returned to the main house and retreated to her room, taking refuge in the unexpected quiet. This could well be her last night in this room, and she found herself taking it in from her window seat. It had become her haven over the years; when she'd first moved in here as a teenager, the walls had been yellow and the room essentially bare except for the bed. She'd gradually filled the built-in shelves with books, a few collectible dolls—including the Swedish bride doll she had inherited from her grandmother on her fifteenth birthday and the Japanese geisha doll Myeko had given her the same day, as well as a cherished doll from France, clad in the frilly-skirted costume of a Moulin Rouge dancer, that Tattoo had helped her choose in Paris more than seven years before—and an assortment of favorite photos in frames, herself with friends, with Roarke and Tattoo, and one of herself at age twelve with her mother and Kristy and Kelly. The walls were adorned with paintings by Tattoo, and there was a beautifully carved and finished wooden knickknack shelf—another fifteenth-birthday gift—crammed nearly to overflowing with figurines and assorted small souvenirs and mementos. The rocking chair that had been Roarke's fourteenth-birthday gift to her was padded with soft cushions and draped with a quilt she'd found in the antique shop in town. When she had returned from Finland, she and her friends had made a project out of painting the walls sky blue, and she had changed the bedspread and curtains to go with the new décor. In all the years she had lived here, she had made the little dormer room very much her own, and she realized suddenly that she was going to miss it.

The last thing her eyes settled on was the framed wedding portrait of herself and Teppo, which had somehow never come down even after she'd met Christian and fallen in love with him. She frowned in consternation and arose, lifting the picture off the wall and staring for some time at the couple in the photograph. Teppo's pin-straight blond mop had been flopping across his forehead and almost into his eyes; Leslie, at age twenty, had had very long hair, as straight as Teppo's and a little darker. She shook her head slightly. _My God, I look so blasted young. I thought I had the whole world at my feet. Come to think of it, I think Teppo did too. How naïve we were!_ The realization came to her then, that she had tucked the memory of Teppo away into a quiet recess of her mind, and she had fully moved on from those years with him and her overwhelming sorrow at his death. She was more than ready to go forward at Christian's side. She smiled faintly and decided that if she could catch Roarke alone sometime that day, she'd ask him what he thought should be done with the portrait. For the moment she tucked it into the closet, leaning it against the wall in there.

Finally, looking for some way to keep herself occupied, she chose a book from her collection and retreated to the TV room to read; but for some reason her mind kept blanking out and she found herself slowly nodding off. Eventually she gave up and curled up on the futon, letting sleep claim her.

Three hours later, shortly before supper, Roarke and Christian arrived at the main house almost simultaneously and laughed at the coincidence. "You amaze me, I must admit," Roarke remarked. "After all that traveling to get here from the other side of the world, you spent the entire morning handling business matters, then the entire afternoon handling wedding matters. Surely you're ready to drop where you stand!"

Christian smiled and shrugged. "I think there's a sense of purpose driving me," he mused. "I've waited so long to be freed from Arnulf's and the count's machinations that now that I finally am, I feel as if I need to take advantage of it with all possible haste. In any case, I should sleep very well tonight."

Roarke laughed. "Yes, there's that." They emerged into the study and were both surprised to find it deserted. "I thought surely Leslie would be here."

"I haven't seen her since mid-morning," Christian realized, looking astonished. "I've been running around so much, I hardly had the chance to think about it till now. If you like, I'll look for her…and I'll just return that one little item you lent me before she misses it."

"Oh, yes, of course," Roarke agreed and removed something small from his pocket, handing it to Christian. "Mariki should be in the process of completing the evening meal, so I'll meet you and Leslie on the porch."

"Good, thank you," Christian said and headed for the stairs. He hesitated at the top and glanced into Leslie's room; no one was in it, so he returned the borrowed item and then paused, curiosity overtaking him. He'd seen the room before, but had never had the opportunity to examine the assorted trappings of Leslie's life, and drifted to the shelves to get a look at the things there. His eye was particularly drawn to the various photographs displayed in a group on one of the top shelves, and he stared fascinated at the images of Leslie in her teen years on the island. The oldest photo seemed to be one of a woman sitting for a studio portrait with three young girls. Christian realized with a mild sense of shock that he must be looking at Leslie with her mother and twin sisters, and gave in to the impulse to lift the frame from the shelf and study it more closely. The twins, he saw, were identical, and looked quite a bit like Leslie; all three girls favored their mother.

As fascinated as he was by the sight of his fiancée's long-dead family, he found himself examining Leslie's image in the picture. Her smile seemed reserved, he thought, recalling what she had once told him in one of their many e-mail conversations about how she'd had to repress her emotions around Michael Hamilton. He smiled suddenly. Once they were married, they would have all the time in the world to talk, and he decided to ask her more about her early childhood before she was orphaned. He knew little about her history prior to her arrival on Fantasy Island, and was intensely curious.

Christian replaced the photo on the shelf and slipped out of the room, glancing down the hall and heading for the TV room. He grinned when he cleared the doorway: there lay Leslie, curled almost double on the futon with her head on a throw pillow, sound asleep.

Enchanted by the sight, he stole across the room and crouched beside her, gazing at her in wonder. He didn't think he'd ever seen her asleep before, and it made him smile. After some time, loath though he was to do it, he reached out and grasped her shoulder, giving it a few gentle shakes. "Leslie, my Rose, time to wake up," he urged softly.

She stirred feebly for a moment, then fell still again, and he chuckled, sitting on the futon beside her and pulling her into a seated position in his embrace. Still asleep, she fell limply against him, her head landing neatly on his shoulder. Christian wondered idly what she'd been doing lately that even this much movement didn't rouse her, and with some reluctance began to coax her awake.

Finally she came around enough to mutter, "Go away, I'm sleeping." Christian broke into laughter at that, which finally served to wake her up completely. "Oh, it's you!"

"Welcome back," Christian teased her, and she smiled, still a little groggy. "It's just about dinnertime. How long have you been sleeping in here?"

"I don't know, what time is it?" He showed her his watch, and she gasped softly. "No wonder I feel so out of it. I've been sleeping at least three hours, maybe more."

Christian shook his head. "You'll never sleep tonight, not after that long a nap. Have they been making you walk everywhere you go for the last week or two?"

Leslie grinned and explained, "Not quite, but we were busy the last few days and that really kept us hopping around here. Today was the first quiet day we'd had, but then you arrived and I started doing what I had to do for our wedding…and apparently my brain took the opportunity to knock me out when it saw one. I don't think I'll have any problem sleeping tonight, not as tired as I am."

"I know I won't," Christian said, "and that's as well. I don't feel like dealing with wedding jitters or anticipation. We'd at least better go down and have some dinner; Mr. Roarke's waiting for us on the porch." He tensed to rise.

"Christian," Leslie said softly.

"Hm?" He turned back to her with a questioning look.

"I love you," she said.

His hazel eyes lit and he smiled, shaking his head at himself just slightly. "I can't believe we never found the chance to say that yet today," he murmured. "Ah, my Leslie Rose, I love you too…you don't know how much." He gathered her in close and bent his head; their eyes drifted shut as they moved toward each other.

Their lips had barely touched when a voice shouted up the stairs, "Uncle Christian! What happened to you? Did you find Leslie yet?"

At the first word, Christian and Leslie froze, their eyes popping open with startlement; the final question made Christian release his breath with an annoyed grunt and sag back a bit. Leslie grinned at him and suggested facetiously, "Saved by the bell?"

"I think 'blasted by a bullhorn' would be more accurate," Christian snorted, and she collapsed against him with merriment. Laughing as well, Christian squeezed her one last time before rising and helping her to her feet. "Remember where we were, and we'll get back to it later."


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § -- January 15, 2001

Each with an arm securely around the other, they descended the steps at leisure and strolled onto the porch, where Roarke and Anna-Kristina waited at the fully-loaded dinner table. "It took you more than long enough to get down here," the princess complained with mock petulance. "I'm incredibly hungry."

"I see you finally woke up," Christian returned easily, with an arch look at her. "And so typical of you to awaken hungry and concentrate entirely on that."

"Nice to see you, Anna-Kristina," Leslie added, equally mischievous.

Anna-Kristina's mouth fell open and Roarke began to laugh. "Mr. Roarke, they're ganging up on me!" she complained. "Now that they're going to be husband and wife at last, they're a team…and they're going to be an evil team at that!"

"I need someone on my side to combat your teasing," Christian said, grinning and pulling out Leslie's chair for her before taking his own. "Anyway, it was your idea to make the trip out here with me, don't forget. How long ago did you finally come out of dreamland, then? You look as sleepy as Leslie does."

"You do look slightly rumpled, Leslie," Roarke remarked, taking in the sight of his daughter with her still-faintly-drowsy look. "Are you all right?"

"I found her napping upstairs," Christian explained. "She tells me you were quite busy the last few days, and I suppose her weariness must have caught up with her."

Leslie nodded. "I guess my yawns this morning were a sign. I slept for around three hours, according to Christian's watch."

Roarke's eyes widened for a moment. "Did you! Well, let's hope that doesn't disturb your sleep tonight. The last thing we need is a bride who paces the floor all night due to nothing more than sheer anticipation." He grinned at their laughter. "I am assuming that all the preparations are in place—at least, those you two needed to handle yourselves."

"My dress and shoes and even my hairpiece are ready and waiting," Leslie said. "I have a bouquet on order too. I had meant to meet with the minister, but I fell asleep."

"Oh, I took care of that for you," Roarke told her. "I knew both you and Christian would be otherwise occupied. There is no problem with his being here; he has all day open tomorrow. I promised to call him this evening with the scheduling details."

"Oh yeah," Leslie said. "Michiko called from New York earlier today and said she'll be here on tomorrow morning's first charter, and she wants me and all our friends out there to meet her. Frida said she's coming too, and I thought in that case we should have the wedding at about five so she has a chance to get here in time. And I think the terrace is big enough to hold us and all the girls, along with Anna-Kristina here."

"Very good," Roarke agreed. "Christian, is that satisfactory?"

"It suits me," Christian agreed. "I must admit, though, if it weren't for your friend Frida, I'd insist the wedding be held at six tomorrow morning." They laughed again. "I had a telephone call at the bungalow this afternoon when I dropped in to have a quick shower. It seems my flat has already sold—to none other than Gerhard and Liselotta. Most of the electrical appliances that I couldn't bring with me will remain with it so that they can make use of them. It will be nice to have a family member living there; whenever we return to Lilla Jordsö to check on my office there, we can stay somewhere besides that castle."

"What do you mean 'we'?" Leslie asked curiously.

"Well, of course, you must come with me the next time I go," Christian said. "What kind of fool makes a business trip of that length and duration without taking his wife? In any case, you hardly saw any of my country, by your own admission, the one time you were there. It would give me a chance to play host. But not to worry; it's going to be a long time before I find it necessary to make the trip. Late summer or early fall, I'm thinking."

"You should show her your old room in the castle," Anna-Kristina told him.

Christian laughed. "I doubt there's much evidence left of my presence there," he said, "but I imagine you'd like to play tour guide…"

"Besides," Leslie broke in, "I'd like to see where you grew up. And maybe that room you were telling me about once, with all those windows, where you used to watch storms."

Their dinner conversation was lively and cheerful, frequently punctuated by laughter, and they enjoyed the meal thoroughly. When Leslie arose along with Christian and Anna-Kristina, Roarke looked at her askance. "Going somewhere?"

"Just thought I'd walk Christian back to the bungalow," she said self-consciously.

"Yes, my poor vulnerable uncle needs protection from the night life, while big bad Anna-Kristina can take care of herself," the princess put in, evoking laughter again. She grinned. "No, I understand. I've heard of that strange Anglo-Saxon wedding tradition that forbids the groom to see the bride before the wedding. You'll want time together now."

"No, it just forbids the groom from seeing the bride wearing her wedding dress before the wedding," Leslie corrected her.

Christian rolled his eyes. "Women," he snorted, getting energetic punches from Anna-Kristina and Leslie simultaneously, one in each arm. "Ouch. Well, at least my bruises will match. Come on, let's go." Leaving Roarke laughing, the threesome ambled off the veranda, Christian between his fiancée and his niece, each with her arm linked through one of his.

On the front porch of the bungalow Anna-Kristina lingered, hugging Leslie in proper greeting at last. "I can hardly wait to watch you two finally be married tomorrow," she said excitedly. "It's going to be simply beautiful. Maybe you wouldn't mind if I started calling you 'Aunt Leslie' right now."

"I think it'd be sweet," Leslie admitted with a bashful grin.

"Enough mush," Christian commanded, affecting an exaggerated he-man stance that made Leslie and Anna-Kristina explode with laughter and punch him again. "Ouch, now I'll have another set of matching bruises! You two are brutal. If you'll kindly remove yourself from the scene, Anna-Kristina, I'd appreciate a few moments alone with Leslie."

"Why didn't you just say that in the first place?" Anna-Kristina said, leering, and he pointed at the door, his lips twitching with amusement. "All right, all right, I'm going. Sleep well, Leslie, and see you tomorrow." She slipped inside and shut the door.

"Finally," Christian murmured and tugged Leslie fully into his embrace. "I've been waiting all day to do this." He kissed her as he had meant to do earlier at the main house, and she fell under his spell as always, clinging to him as if never to let go. It didn't take much to get them carried away, and when Christian finally found a grain of presence of mind and pulled back from her, they were both flushed and breathing hard.

"One more night, just tonight, and then we won't have to stop there anymore," Leslie murmured, her voice soft with anticipation and longing.

"Ah, I know, I know, my darling," Christian said a bit breathily, swallowing audibly and holding her close. "Maybe that's what will keep me awake all night long, thinking of what we'll be doing twenty-four hours from now. Oh, but before you go, there's something I absolutely must do, and it would be a sheer crime not to. It's far too late in coming, but I felt it only right, and Mr. Roarke agreed with me." He groped in a pocket for a moment, fished something out and said, "Give me your hand."

She lifted it, and he released her long enough to slip a ring onto the third finger. It was deceptively simple: a plain gold band without adornments, crowned with a small heart-shaped diamond that winked gently in the night. "Your engagement ring," he said.

Leslie gasped softly and stared at it in wonder. "Oh, Christian, it's perfect! How did you figure out my ring size?" she asked.

"Mr. Roarke helped," Christian said. "He borrowed one of your other rings while you were out with your friends after lunch today, and helped me narrow down the choices at the jewelry store in town, letting me know what kind of styles you seem to like. This is 18-karat gold, and the diamond comes directly from the Kimberley mines in South Africa. Do you see the little stones on either side of the diamond there? Those are rainbow gems."

"So they are," she realized, squinting at the smaller round gems and tilting her hand this way and that to watch the light glint off the multicolored chips within them.

"Not to give anything away," Christian added, sounding a little self-conscious, "but I decided there was no point in wasting any further time and bought the full wedding set. Your wedding ring will be fully encircled with rainbow gems, the size of the ones in this ring, set in the same 18-karat gold. My wedding ring…"

She broke in, delighted. "You're going to wear a ring too? I'm so glad!"

Christian laughed. "As a matter of fact, I see it as a statement that I'm going into this marriage knowingly and wholeheartedly, with the intention of staying in it for the rest of my life. I didn't wear a ring when I was married to Johanna; it's common for _jordiska_ men to wear them, but not the royals, for whatever reason. In any case, I would have felt like a fraud: to me, wearing a wedding ring should really mean something. I think of it as a symbol of something important and meaningful, and that union didn't mean much to either Johanna or me. And of course, I utterly refused to wear a ring during my marriage to Marina. For that matter, so did she. Arnulf protested, but she talked him down, and he never said a word about it after that. Just as well…I would have defied him in any event. But this time, because I love you so deeply and I've known almost from the moment I fell for you that I wanted you as my wife, I'm going to wear a ring." He forestalled any comment she might have made with another drugging kiss; she was already too overwhelmed with emotion to say anything, and Christian's kiss completely emptied her mind.

When he broke from her again, he could see her arousal in her expression, and sympathized fully. "Tomorrow night, my Leslie Rose, as you said," he whispered.

Leslie nodded, looking and feeling dazed. "Tomorrow night." She hugged him with all her strength, forcibly banking her desires, feeling him breathing deeply as if he were doing the same. "I love you so much, Christian, my darling…I…" Her voice broke and she buried her face in his shoulder. It still barely seemed real to her.

"I know, my Rose, I know," he murmured, deliberately setting her back and stepping away at the same time. "Go back home, now, and tomorrow we'll begin our lives together." He waited for her nod, then gave her a gentle nudge toward the steps. "Good night, my darling, and be careful."

Leslie smiled wistfully back at him, then slowly descended the steps and drifted away along the lane toward the trail that would take her home. The night ahead promised to be a long one, and she wondered if she'd ever survive it.

§ § § -- January 16, 2001

Leslie awoke before dawn, restless and jittery, her stomach dancing with anticipation and her nerves alive and singing. Over and over, the refrain caroled through her mind: _Today's the day, today's the day!_ She cast a glance at the clock and noted that it was a few minutes before six, and giggled softly, remembering Christian's assertion that he'd have preferred to have the wedding at that hour. She knew she'd never get back to sleep now, so she bowed to the inevitable and got out of bed, rummaging through the built-in storage drawers under the window seat for a T-shirt and shorts to get her through the day and its preparations.

She was making her bed when the hallway light came on and Roarke paused in her doorway. "Now why doesn't it surprise me that you're up?" he teased.

"Gee, I don't know…maybe somebody's getting married today," she joked back. "Oh, Father…I meant to ask you something. I need a little advice." While he watched, she went to the closet and removed the portrait of herself and Teppo. "I took this down only yesterday. Obviously I can't have it hanging on the wall anymore…I actually should have put it away years ago, I guess, but I just never managed to get around to it till now. But I don't want to destroy it; after all, I did love Teppo very much for a few years. What do you think I should do with it?"

Roarke considered the question, gazing absently at the frame she held. "You're right," he remarked at some length, "it wouldn't be appropriate to hang it on the wall any longer, not even here. Yet it's the last tangible reminder of a major part of your life. I'd suggest that you leave it here; perhaps you can place it in storage in the television room. You and Christian will have your own portrait made, and that's what should be in a prominent place on the wall of your future home."

Leslie nodded. "True…if we can ever figure out where that future home's going to be. Christian said he has something in mind and wants me to look at some drawings he's done, but meantime I have no idea what we're going to do. We're really starting from scratch, and it's been bothering both of us since we realized it yesterday." She shrugged. "Anyway, I appreciate the advice—thanks, Father."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," Roarke replied, pushing himself smoothly off the doorway where he had been leaning. "Perhaps you'd better make a few phone calls to your friends. The first charter of the day is due in less than an hour, and I believe you mentioned that you and all your friends were to meet Michiko at the dock."

"That's right," Leslie said. "I warned them to get up, but it can't hurt to make sure." She grinned and went off to store the portrait in the TV-room closet before heading down the stairs in Roarke's wake and making calls to her friends to be sure they were up.


	7. Chapter 7

§ § § -- January 16, 2001

Forty minutes later they were in the middle of a noisy and joyous reunion with Michiko, who as it turned out hadn't come alone: all three of her stepchildren were with her, as well as the still-single Prince Carlono and Prince Mattéano with his wife and Michiko's younger sister, Reiko. There was yet another surprise: Prince Gerhard and the newly-crowned Princess Liselotta, accompanied by Gerhard's brother Rudolf, also still single, and the princes' parents—Christian's brother Carl Johan and sister-in-law Amalia. Staggered by their appearance, Leslie tried to borrow the royal veneer Michiko had acquired over her years of marriage to Errico and greeted them all with deferential nods of the head and slight curtsies. They all scoffed at her when she did that.

"There's no need for that sort of formality," Crown Prince Carl Johan Enstad assured her, grasping her hands. "You'll soon be my brother's wife, and even though he has given up his title and you thus won't be a princess, it still won't be necessary for you to make that sort of obeisance. You've made Christian a very happy man, and I'm grateful to you for that. It wouldn't have been right for us to miss this."

Leslie grinned sheepishly at him. "It's just that I…it's hard to explain, but you have to consider that I'm just an orphaned nobody at heart, and I never in my life expected to be fraternizing with royalty on such a regular basis—much less marrying a prince, even a soon-to-be former prince. I'm really glad you came here and that I finally got to meet you!"

"We're not the only ones who had this idea," Prince Gerhard said cheerfully. "There's more family behind us somewhere. We just couldn't all get on the same flight, partly due to a longstanding policy that the entire royal family shouldn't fly on the same aircraft together in case of a crash. But we were all impatient to come out here and watch Uncle Christian finally marry a woman he's truly in love with. So my aunt Anna-Laura is on her way along with the rest of my cousins, including Uncle Arnulf's other two daughters."

"My God," said Leslie, overwhelmed, fielding the grins from her friends.

"Did you tell Christian about this?" Michiko asked curiously.

"Oh, we thought we'd surprise him," Prince Rudolf said, grinning. "When our cousin Anna-Kristina announced that she was flying to Fantasy Island with him, we looked at one another, thought a little about it, and decided it would be very petty of us not to attend his wedding. We were all small children when he was married the first time—in fact, Aunt Anna-Laura's two weren't even born yet—and of course, his second marriage was done in secret. So this is a treat for us all."

Leslie giggled. "I can't wait to see Christian's face when he finds out you're here," she said happily. "Well, let's go back to the main house so you can meet Father."

They found Roarke on the porch just leading Christian to the breakfast table; the sound of the mass arrival stopped them both to stare as Leslie ran out ahead of the others and came over to hug Christian. "Hi, my love! Sleep okay?"

"Quite well…but what on earth is this?" Christian exclaimed, staring with enormous, astonished eyes at the group of people following in Leslie's wake. _"Herregud_, Carl Johan, what are you doing here?"

"Attending your wedding," said Carl Johan and assessed his brother's attire of a pair of old white running shorts, battered sneakers and a T-shirt with a logo so faded it was impossible to make out what it had once been. "If that's what you're wearing to marry Leslie, then I daresay we made it here in time to shake some sense into you."

Laughter echoed across the veranda and Christian and Carl Johan shook hands, both brothers grinning broadly at each other. "It's a treat to see you and your family here," said Christian with honest appreciation. "Even Anna-Kristina thought she was going to be the sole representative from Lilla Jordsö."

"Oh, we're not the only ones," Prince Gerhard said, taking his turn to shake hands with his uncle. "Aunt Anna-Laura and her entourage will be here later, and Anna-Kristina should be expecting her sisters as well. And…hello, Mr. Roarke, I am Prince Gerhard Enstad, one of Christian's nephews. I'm very pleased to meet you, and I can't believe the beauty of this island of yours."

"Nor I," Carl Johan agreed. "There couldn't be a better place for Christian and Leslie to live. I am Christian's brother, Carl Johan."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both, Your Highnesses, and you're very kind, thank you," said Roarke with his usual smooth, easy dignity. Introductions went around, and Roarke suggested they all join him, Christian and Leslie for breakfast.

They accepted, so that when Mariki came out with the cart, she stopped dead in her tracks and goggled at the crowd on the veranda. Leslie's friends had all gone back home, except for Michiko; and the presence of so much royalty all in one place was clearly more than Mariki was even remotely prepared for. Roarke kept a very careful straight face when he said, "Mariki, you already know Queen Michiko; and these are Christian's brother, Prince Carl Johan, sister-in-law Princess Amalia, nephews Prince Gerhard and Prince Rudolf, and Prince Gerhard's wife Princess Liselotta. Please call the hotel and have them send some staff here with extra tables and chairs, and tell them it's on my authority."

"Of—of course, Mr. Roarke," stuttered Mariki, heavily flustered, then offered a very deep and prolonged bow before straightening and fleeing from the veranda. Quiet laughter ensued when she was safely out of earshot.

"Poor Mariki…intimidated by all these lofty personages," Christian remarked with his trademark infectious grin. "I certainly hope she'll survive the day."

"If we finish breakfast before the next group of your relatives arrives," Roarke said dryly, "I think she has some chance of pulling through." Merry laughter rang across the lane, and conversations arose to pass the time till several hotel staff pulled up with tables, chairs and some breakfast dishes from the hotel, courtesy of Kazuo Miyamoto and his staff. Mariki recovered somewhat from her intimidation and did an admirable job of acquitting herself, collecting a healthy round of compliments from their unexpected guests.

The ten-o'clock charter brought in Princess Anna-Laura, her son Prince Roald, her daughter Princess Cecilia and Cecilia's husband Axel, who were openly delighted to meet Leslie as well. It overwhelmed her a little more, and she wished there were some free minutes in their busy pre-wedding schedule so she could hash all this out with Christian.

But they were too busy; there was too much to do, and when Anna-Kristina's two sisters, Gabriella with her husband Elias, and Margareta, appeared on the noon charter, everything finally began to move ahead in earnest. Frida Rosseby had come in on the same plane with Gabriella, Elias and Margareta, and had already made fast friends with them. She met Leslie, Michiko, Myeko, Maureen, Lauren, Camille, Tabitha and Katsumi at the main house, and for the very first time Leslie found herself surrounded by all her friends. She managed to eke out time to perform quick introductions for Christian before she was towed off the porch by all eight of the other women to retreat to the airy wooden A-frame home where Maureen lived with Grady Harding and their almost-seven-year-old daughter Brianna. The upstairs portion of the A-frame was primarily a special-occasion area, as Maureen explained, used mostly at Christmastime and as an impromptu playroom by Brianna. It was here that makeup artists and hairdressers waited to perform small miracles on the eight witnesses and a somewhat larger one on the bride.

The whole operation turned into something of a reunion party for the girls. Hair and makeup were done two at a time while the others waited, everyone talking up a storm. Leslie was so engrossed in chatter with her friends, and in telling Frida the long involved story of hers and Christian's meeting, falling in love and long separation, she didn't have a chance to get antsy or nervous. This had been the intention; to that end, Maureen, Camille, Tabitha, Lauren, Katsumi and Myeko had pooled enough money to hire the professionals for that afternoon, and Leslie thanked them all profusely for doing it.

Since there were nine of them, Leslie was deliberately left for last, so that when it was finally her turn to undergo the preparations, she felt as if she were on display. For the first time the jitters kicked in, and she asked nervously, "What time is it?"

"A little after three," said Maureen, the voice of reason. "Don't worry, Leslie, there's plenty of time. I promise you won't be late for your own wedding."

By the time the clock showed four, Leslie was ready for her walk down the improvised aisle. Maureen led her back to hers and Grady's bedroom, where the walk-in closet door was hung with a full-length mirror, so that she could see the final result; and Leslie was stricken speechless. The dress was a perfect fit, the lace adding a sweet, elegant touch; her hair was shining and fragrant, its centerpiece a lightweight decorative comb festooned with little white silk roses. Her face was radiant with its understated makeup; her shoes had just enough of a heel on them to add about an inch to her height; and to top it all off, her engagement ring sparkled in the light from the closet. She shook her head slowly.

"I can't believe that's really me," she breathed in wonder. "I think I'm afraid if I close my eyes, all this will disappear."

"One more thing, Leslie," said Lauren, presenting her with the just-delivered bouquet she had chosen the day before. "Now you're finished."

"Christian's going to be mesmerized," Tabitha predicted.

"You are even lovelier than I," Katsumi offered, herself looking delicate and ethereal in her brightly-colored kimono.

"You _are_ gorgeous," Michiko agreed. "Just the right touches for a second wedding. I can hardly wait to see what Christian's reaction is when he sees you."

Frida said with a little smile, "I think I am glad Klaus is not here with me…he might change his mind and decide he would rather have you than me." Leslie rolled her eyes at her friend but smiled in wordless appreciation.

"You see?" Maureen said. "Christian won't be able to take his eyes off you."

"That's for sure," Myeko agreed wholeheartedly.

Camille let out a loud exaggerated huff of impatience. "If you guys are quite through with fawning all over the place," she said, "then we oughta get going before Leslie turns back into Cinderella. Come on, beauteous bride, I've got a nice comfy pair of sneakers waiting for you." That broke the tension and they all started to laugh.

"How'll you keep Christian from seeing you when we get to the main house?" Myeko asked on the ride back from the Enclave. "I mean, anyone on the terrace can see everything in the study."

"Simple," said Leslie. "Father and I worked it out earlier. Christian and the minister don't get there till quarter till, so as long as we make it there before then, we'll be fine. I'll wait upstairs with Father till it's time for the ceremony to start, and then he'll walk me down and hand me over to Christian on the terrace. All you have to do is stand and wait…two lines on either side, going through the study, so it makes a sort of makeshift aisle. Once we're back and I'm safely hidden, Father'll show you."

Roarke was on the porch actively watching for them when they pulled up in the two rovers he'd put at their disposal for the afternoon, and didn't bother hiding his relief to see them arrive. He smiled broadly at sight of Leslie as she led her friends up the steps, and said, "As I knew…you look lovely, Leslie. Hurry up to your room, and I'll show the ladies what we were discussing earlier."

Once upstairs, though, Leslie felt a little too isolated from the main party and found herself sneaking back to the head of the stairs to watch Roarke directing her friends in where to stand so that he and Leslie would be running (or walking) a sort of gamut on her way to join Christian for the ceremony. Inevitably they noticed her standing there, and Camille yelled playfully at her, "Hey, you, go back to your room!" They all laughed, then again when Leslie plugged her thumbs in her ears, waggled her fingers and stuck out her tongue at her longtime friend. Grinning and feeling better, Leslie returned to her room and perched in the window seat, watching for Christian's arrival while her stomach began to spontaneously generate a flock of hyperactive bats.

When he did come in, driven in a jeep by one of Roarke's assorted employees, she got up from the seat and stepped back in case he happened to look up and see her in the window. She wanted to get a clear look at him when he saw her for the first time in her wedding attire. She knew he was dressed in his special royal military uniform, but from up here she couldn't make out many details. Leslie smiled to herself, certain she'd get almost as big a surprise as Christian would.

After that she paced the bedroom till Roarke came up for her at five minutes till. He smiled when she stopped in her tracks and looked hopefully at him, and for just a moment Roarke's dark eyes went misty and wistful. He came to her and caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, a very paternal gesture that made her eyes fill out of nowhere.

"How strange," Roarke murmured, seeing the sheen, "that today I feel more moved, more nostalgic, even more nervous than I did on the day I performed the wedding ceremony for you and Teppo. Perhaps it's because this time I am merely the father of the bride, and I have nothing more to do than stand back and watch you move into a new phase of your life once I have delivered you to Christian."

Leslie tried hard to keep her voice even. "I feel funnier too," she admitted. "I don't know why. Maybe I was just too young and stupid to realize what I was getting into the first time. Now I'm older and I know what to expect."

Roarke nodded, then lifted an eyebrow and gently teased, "Now tell me, Leslie, are you absolutely certain that this is what you want?"

She knew he was teasing, but she took the question seriously nonetheless. "Believe me, Father, there's nothing else on earth I want more," she said, softly and fervently.

His demeanor softened and he smiled at her. "That's good," he said, then leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Be happy, my child, that's all I ask of you."

"I couldn't possibly be anything else," she said, and they shared one last smile before he quickly checked his gold pocket watch and offered her his arm. She slipped hers through it, and together, slowly, they descended the stairs. Mariki, hovering in the background and operating the CD player on the bookshelf in the corner of the study, took her cue from the hush and straightened stances of Leslie's friends in their double line and started the traditional wedding march just as they took the first step down.


	8. Chapter 8

§ § § -- January 16, 2001

There were tears in most eyes; only Camille seemed composed, and she winked at Leslie as she and Roarke passed. Leslie's own tears had been banished by the joyous excitement of the moment. Heightening her own burgeoning anticipation, she let her gaze rest on each of her friends' faces for a moment till she and Roarke had come abreast of Michiko on the one side and Maureen on the other, and then shifted her eyes to Christian.

His face was a stunned mask; he gaped at her in wonder, his eyes glittering, his lips slowly stretching into an enchanted smile. Leslie was no less impressed; he looked irresistible to her in the carefully tailored black uniform with its gold braid and a small row of military decorations he must have earned ages back. There was a moment of indulgent silence while each one got an elegant eyeful of the other, till Roarke moved his arm, prompting Leslie to let go and Christian to step forward and take his place beside her.

Ringing the terrace behind the minister, who stood in the middle with the bridal couple, were Christian's family—everyone except King Arnulf and Queen Kristina, neither of whom had been able to leave the country—and Rogan and Julie, the former of whom held a small crystal saucer containing the rings. Roarke stood off to one side now, and Leslie's friends gathered in a slightly uneven line behind her and Christian; Julie came forward long enough to take Leslie's bouquet, an arrangement of white roses that matched the silk ones in her hair. The minister looked around at everyone, then smiled and began.

"It's my immense privilege to stand here today and conduct the long-awaited wedding ceremony for Leslie Susan Hamilton and Christian Carl Tobias Enstad. I heard their story just yesterday afternoon from Mr. Roarke, and I must say I'm greatly impressed by the strength and endurance of the love between Christian and Leslie through the years they waited for each other. A love like that will see them through decades together, and there's no doubt in my mind these two will still be holding hands when they're old and gray and more wrinkled than a Shar-pei." Quiet amusement rolled around the gathering. "They have written their own vows, which I find a lovely and moving testament to their love for each other. Leslie Susan, you may begin."

Christian and Leslie turned then to face each other, mutual wonder still gleaming in their eyes. They had made this decision a very long time ago, and though each knew the other had already written their vows, neither knew what the other was going to say. Leslie had had her heartfelt words to Christian memorized for so long now that they came from her without pause or hesitation.

"I didn't know it was possible to love this much," she said, the volume of her voice just high enough so that all could hear. "You are my prince, my hero, my knight in shining armor…my miracle worker. You opened a closed heart and shone a light into the dark.

"Despite the hard times we've gone through, my love for you never died: and I promise that I'll love you to the end of my days. I will stand by you till the end of time. And with these words, I take you, Christian Carl Tobias Enstad, as my husband."

When she finished, she removed his ring from the crystal saucer Rogan held out and slipped it onto his finger before looking up. Christian's eyes had filled with tears, and he actually bit his lip in the attempt to hold them back. She smiled at him, and he returned it.

"Christian Carl Tobias, you may now speak," the minister prompted.

Christian drew in a deep breath and grasped Leslie's hands in his, as though he needed her to anchor himself to the spot, then spoke, his soft voice ringing with emotion. "You are the love and the light of my life…never had I even remotely imagined that love could be like this, until I met you and you gave me the gift of your heart.

"We have had much to go through, many obstacles to face, and there will be more. But this I promise you: I will stand by you, today and every day, till the very end of my life. This I vow before all present here. With these words, I take you, Leslie Susan Hamilton, as my beloved wife."

He in turn made Leslie's eyes fill again, and one of hers escaped; automatically he reached up and gently brushed it away, then slid her ring onto her finger. One of Leslie's friends clapped a hand over her mouth in the attempt to hold back a sob, but it escaped and they all looked at Frida in sympathy. Frida turned red but smiled and let her tears fall. Michiko's eyes overflowed in reaction, and so did Lauren's; they were standing on either side of her. _The Liljefors powers strike again,_ Leslie thought humorously and smiled at her friend. From behind them they heard Anna-Kristina sniff loudly as well.

The minister broke the emotional silence. "If anyone here can find just cause to prevent this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace…"

Christian couldn't resist. "If anyone dares breathe a word, he or she will live to regret it," he promised half-seriously, and relieved laughter exploded out of everyone. He winked at a giggling Leslie, and she squeezed his hands.

"Well," said the minister, "now that we've made that clear…" He waited for the new chuckles to subside and cleared his throat. "By the power vested in me by God and island law, I now pronounce you husband and wife…and Christian Carl Tobias, by all means, you may kiss the bride." Christian wasted no time stepping closer to Leslie, cradling one side of her face in his hand while he clutched her hand with the other, and kissing her with just enough passion to make promises for the night ahead.

They broke apart, stepped back and stared at each other, and Leslie said in stunned wonder, "We're finally married, can you believe it??"

That set off a loud, prolonged cheer from all her friends, Christian's entire family, and Rogan and Julie; even Christian released a whoop of celebration before hugging Leslie hard and beaming at everyone. "This calls for the biggest party of the year," he shouted above the noise. "Let's start it now!"

But nobody had really had any idea of just how big the reception was going to be, so that when the wedding party spilled out of the main house and into the lane to make their way there, Mariki had to chase them out and shout after them at the top of her lungs. "Don't go to the luau clearing!" she roared, stopping them all in bewilderment. "It's not big enough by far to hold this celebration. We're using the greensward near the Japanese teahouse."

Leslie's mouth dropped open, and hers and Roarke's gazes somehow found each other in the small crowd. "The _whole_ greensward?" Leslie croaked in shock.

"Surely you didn't go that far," Roarke said skeptically.

Mariki grinned smugly. "We certainly did, Mr. Roarke and Miss Leslie, believe it," she told them with pride in her voice. "Go over there and see for yourselves."

Christian laughed at Leslie's expression. "I think the end of four and a half years of waiting calls for something of that caliber," he said. "Now let's see exactly what they did, hm? I'm really curious…not to mention hungry."

"Well, then, lead on, MacDuff," Leslie said, evoking laughter before the group scattered into the assorted vehicles waiting in the lane. Roarke joined Christian and Leslie in the limousine he'd rented for them, which would later take them off to the honeymoon he had planned for them. He had yet to tell them, and was looking forward to the gift he would soon present to them.

In the car on the Ring Road, he noted their tightly clenched hands and smiled. "I see it hasn't sunk in yet that you're married now," he remarked.

"It's going to be a while, Mr. Roarke," Christian admitted. "We're both so used to waiting that we still haven't quite even grasped the fact that the wait has ended, never mind that Leslie's my wife at long last." He lifted Leslie's hand, entangled in his, and kissed the back of it, earning a silly, delirious grin from her.

"For this I'll even get up and dance," she said giddily, and Roarke and Christian both burst out laughing. They talked a little on the short ride to the teahouse and the greensward that lay just beyond it and the nearby pond that was surrounded by leafy willows and spanned by a steep, cherry-red Japanese bridge. Once the car passed the little willow grove, though, the greensward came into full view, and what they saw shocked all three of them speechless. The only audible reaction was Leslie's loud gasp.

As far as the eye could see, twinkling Christmas lights in every possible color were strung along light poles on either side of the broad expanse of grass. There were long tables crammed with food, from _hors d'oeuvres_ to desserts and everything in between; a large dance floor had been set up in the middle of the lawn; and there was even a small stage complete with podium and microphone. And there were people—already dozens of them were milling around, filling plates and chatting while the sound system played a CD of 80s songs. The trio looked at one another in disbelief; they couldn't even see the end of the lights or the tables. Apparently Mariki hadn't been exaggerating!

"I think I'm afraid to get out of the car," Leslie finally ventured. "If we do, we'll be mobbed to death."

"She forgot to hire security guards," Christian agreed, shaking his head.

Roarke eyed his daughter till she felt his scrutiny and looked back, at which point he said, "I believe we have you to blame for this, Leslie Susan. If memory serves, the pivotal phrase was 'knock yourselves out'."

She shrugged sheepishly. "Well, heck," she muttered, and Roarke grinned, while Christian laughed again and hugged her close.

The rest of the convoy pulled up behind them and discharged the wedding party in a noisy, excited stream; they piled up beside the limo, opened the doors and all but pulled Christian and Leslie out of the car, bearing the startled newlyweds off to be the unwilling center of attention. Roarke followed behind at some little distance, feeling a bit sorry for them, but understanding the crowd at the same time. It was a huge event, and everyone wanted a chance to celebrate it, even if only in a small way.

Mariki had spared no time or expense in creating this enormous bash, and had gone so far as to hire a DJ whom she now hurriedly alerted to the arrival of the stars of the moment. With a flourish he boomed over the sound system, "Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention…may I present Mr. and Mrs. Christian Enstad!" Instantly a deafening cheer went up from the ever-growing crowd, and all Christian and Leslie could do was stand there and grin stupidly, both of them feeling like sideshow attractions.

"I guess it's true that everyone on the island knows you," Christian exclaimed, a bit dazed, having to lean over and speak directly into Leslie's ear.

"Unfortunately, yes," she confirmed dryly, and he grinned, shaking his head.

Roarke threaded his way through the crowd that was congratulating the two and made a raft of apologies while gently shepherding the bewildered couple off to some chairs near the dance floor. "Try to bear with all this for at least an hour," he said, "and then I'll see to it that you have the opportunity to leave unmolested, all right? At that point I'll give you my wedding gift to you, but in the meantime, take this in as good grace as you can."

"Just so long as they let us eat something," Christian said. "I was too nervous and excited to eat much for lunch, and now I'm paying for it."

"Me too," said Leslie. "Maybe they'll be nice and let us eat before we have to do that bride-and-groom's-first-dance ritual."

"This appears to be a titanic buffet," Roarke observed, scanning the seeming miles of tables laden with edibles of all sorts, "so if you wish to eat, you'd better find plates and help yourselves. Don't worry about details or anything else—I'll take care of it all."

"You're being such a good sport about this, Father," Leslie said gratefully. "I didn't think Mariki would turn this into a stadium event, honestly."

"I think you can be forgiven for being unable to read her mind," Roarke replied humorously. "Go ahead and serve yourselves."

They didn't need a second urging and made a long tour of the tables, astonished at all the food that waited to be consumed. When they'd filled their plates with all they could safely hold, they lingered there where they stood, watching the crowd continue to expand and the DJ playing dance music that instantly filled the floor. Here they were relatively out of the way, and had a chance to sate the worst of their hunger before slowing down and giving each other sheepish looks. "So," said Christian, "how much of Mr. Roarke's hour is left for us to endure?"

Leslie giggled. "You're the one with the watch, my love," she reminded him.

"I didn't wear it today," Christian parried, grinning back at her. "Carl Johan and Gerhard both announced with authority that you don't wear extraneous jewelry to your wedding, because the spotlight is on the wedding rings. So I left it behind in the bungalow."

"Then I guess we'll have to wait for Father to come back and give us a countdown every so often," Leslie said, rolling her eyes. "Geez, I have to tell you, next time I see Mariki I'm really going to let her have it for letting things get this out-of-hand. Honestly, that woman seems to think she's my surrogate mother or something."

Christian looked alarmed. "Does that make her my mother-in-law?!" This sent Leslie into fits of laughter, while he stood there peering cautiously into the crowd in case Mariki might be headed their way and then eyeing his wife in consternation.

Giggling helplessly, she finally noticed his expression and popped a kiss onto his cheek. "Cheer up, my love, we won't have to see her every day. Remember, she's Father's cook, not ours."

"I suppose not," Christian said, suddenly pensive, "but that reminds me yet again that we still don't know where we'll be living. Your father's gift to us wouldn't happen to be a new house, would it?" He half-smiled to indicate this last was meant to be facetious.

"That's pretty extreme," Leslie remarked, shaking her head. "Let's just wait and see. I think we'd better finish eating before they demand to watch our first dance."

In companionable silence they cleaned their plates, went back for a few more things, and decided they'd had enough. Hand in hand, they discarded the paper plates and dared venture a little closer to the thick of the party, both looking for Roarke.

It was the DJ who spied them first, though, and before they knew it he'd urged them behind the booth where he was spinning CDs. "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Enstad," he said, grasping Leslie's shoulder for just a moment and energetically shaking Christian's hand. "Are you ready for your first dance?"

"Actually, we were just looking for my father," Leslie said. "Have you seen him?"

"He's probably making rounds," the DJ observed, cursorily scanning the throngs but not seeing Roarke. "It's pretty sheltered back here, though, and it looks like every single person on the island is here. Why don't you stay here for now?"

They agreed and waited a few minutes; fortunately Roarke soon found them and came back to rescue them from the chatty disc jockey. "Why don't you two have your dance now," he suggested, "and give some of those who know Leslie well a chance to extend their congratulations and good wishes. That should take about half an hour, and then I'll come back and make your excuses for you."

"Half an hour till we can escape?" Christian said, looking relieved. "I guess I'll live that long. Come on, my Leslie Rose…what are you doing?"

"Looking for an appropriate song," she said, picking curiously through the DJ's large collection of compact discs. "Wow, there's stuff in here I never heard of. Oh, here it is, he's got it after all!" She plucked a disc out of the lineup and brandished it in the air with gleeful triumph before turning to the DJ and pointing out the song she wanted him to play.

"What did you pick?" Christian asked.

"Shania Twain, 'From This Moment On'," Leslie told him. "And you're gonna have to excuse me if I sing along with it."

"Mr. Roarke, do you happen to have any earplugs on you?" Christian asked, which earned him a new punch in the arm from his wife and got a laugh from Roarke. "All right, I take it back. Come on, my darling, let's get this over with."

The dance floor cleared with amusing speed and the DJ announced the newlyweds' first dance as husband and wife, evoking applause before he put the song on to play. Leslie did indeed sing along with it, and Christian found himself listening to her voice as much as the lyrics, smiling to himself and feeling very lucky indeed.

After that, the dance floor refilled to another slow song, and couple after couple managed to dance their way past Christian and Leslie and offer their congratulations and hopes for a long and happy marriage. After three songs' worth of this, they began playfully expressing their thanks in Christian's native _jordiska_ after he taught her the appropriate words, getting a wide spectrum of reactions in the process. The entertainment value of this kept their spirits up enough to endure till Roarke appeared from the crowd once more. He fielded their relieved looks with a wink and took over the DJ's microphone for a moment.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "my daughter and son-in-law are truly grateful for your enthusiasm and happiness over their marriage; but as I am sure you realize, they have had a very long day, and need the opportunity to wind down and spend some time alone to come to terms with everything. So if you would, please, give them one last round of applause before they depart, and continue to enjoy yourselves." He stepped down amid the roar of clapping, then escorted Christian and Leslie off the dance floor and back across the lawn to the waiting limo.

However, he stopped about halfway between the outer perimeter of the reception area and the shoulder of the road, surprising them. "Is something wrong?" asked Leslie.

"Not at all, child," Roarke assured her. "Remember, I have something to give you two as my wedding gift." With that, he reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a key ring that held two keys. "These unlock the door of Glen Cottage," he said quietly, pressing them into Leslie's hand.

"Glen Cottage…" she echoed, searching her mind, then stilled in shock and stared at her father with huge eyes. "The beach house where you and Helena had your honeymoon?"

Roarke nodded solemnly, with a small reminiscent smile. "That's right. Not only is it to be the site of _your_ honeymoon, it will also be your home until you can have your own house built from the plans you mentioned Christian having."

While Christian watched blankly, Leslie swallowed and blinked back tears, then hugged Roarke with all her strength. "That place meant so much to you," she said hoarsely. "I can't thank you enough, Father…_muchas, muchas gracias."_ She felt Roarke's embrace tighten at her use of the language he had grown up speaking, and for a long moment father and daughter held on.

Then Christian said, "Uh-oh. I see a reporter and photographer coming this way, and I've dealt with enough reporters and photographers to know them when I see them. Maybe we'd better leave while we still can."

Roarke chuckled and released his daughter, relinquishing her to her new husband for the final time. "Consider yourselves on honeymoon until the end of January," he told them. "The bags you packed earlier today are in the car, and you need only get in and let the driver take you to the house. There's no need for you to keep in touch with me—isolate yourselves from the world if you will. Just be happy, both of you, all right?"

"You're much too generous, Mr. Roarke," Christian said softly, shaking his father-in-law's hand. "There aren't words to properly thank you for all you've done."

Roarke smiled. "Go, and hurry," he urged warmly. Christian and Leslie squeezed his hands and then made for the car at a fast jog; he stood and watched them go, his eyes stinging again with tears. For some reason he missed them already.


	9. Chapter 9

§ § § -- January 16, 2001

In the car, moving smoothly down the Ring Road, Christian and Leslie finally let themselves relax and grinned at each other with undisguised relief. "So, tell me, exactly what was the significance of that house your father gave you the keys to?" he asked.

Leslie smiled and proceeded to regale him with the story of Roarke's very brief marriage to Helena Marsh. "I know he still misses her even more than twenty years later," she said, "so I think it was a big step to do that for us. Normally he gives the keys only to honeymooning celebrities or their children, and you'd be surprised how few of them have received the privilege. I've seen the house just once, when I escorted two newlywed rock stars there about eight years ago. It's absolutely beautiful, Christian. It sits high on a hill, far away from any other inhabited places, and it's surrounded by so much vegetation that you can't see it from the road at all. It's the ultimate in privacy, and it has the most gorgeous ocean view from the back. There's a deck that runs three-quarters of the way around the house so that you can stand outside and just watch the waves roll in."

Christian's eyes were alight with anticipation. "It sounds like heaven," he said.

Leslie met his gaze and said just a little shyly, "It _will_ be heaven, with you there."

His breath caught and he regarded her with all the love he felt, before he gathered her into his embrace and kissed her. They were completely unaware of the remainder of the ride, and were a little startled and momentarily confused when the limo driver called out from the front seat, "We're here, Mr. and Mrs. Enstad."

They got out and looked around; the long driveway curved out of sight behind the trees, and they could hear the muted roar of the ocean somewhere not far away. The house itself stood waiting patiently for them; a faint light glowed out of the windows nearest the front door. The limo driver busied himself removing their luggage from the trunk and carrying it into the house after Leslie unlocked the door and pushed it open for him. Christian, meanwhile, drifted down the wraparound deck in the direction of the sound of the sea, and she followed him, eager to get a good look for herself.

"You were right," he said presently, leaning on the railing and staring at the waves as though hypnotized. "This is heaven."

"Mr. and Mrs. Enstad?" they heard the driver call, and reluctantly they turned away from the view, going back toward the door. "You're all ready. Mr. Roarke saw to it that the house is stocked with everything you need for a couple of weeks, so all you have to do is go in and enjoy it. Best wishes to you both."

They thanked him and watched long enough to be sure the limo disappeared down the driveway; then they looked at each other. "Now," said Christian, "to do the one important thing I never did with either Johanna or Marina." Without further ado he lifted Leslie off the deck and carried her across the threshold, to her startled delight. "Didn't Teppo do that for you?" he wondered idly, setting her back on her feet.

"No, he didn't," she said, focusing on him. "You know, this is kind of absurd. This is _our_ time, _our_ honeymoon. Johanna and Marina and Teppo have no business being here."

Christian chortled gleefully at that. "You're absolutely right," he agreed. "In that case, I hereby banish Johanna, Marina and Teppo from the premises." Leslie laughed and hugged him before he gathered up some of their bags. "Where's the bedroom?"

"Follow me," Leslie said and led him through the large living room and the open kitchen to the back corner where the master suite was located. It was sparsely furnished; the dominant piece of furniture was the queen-size four-poster bed, draped with sheer netting to afford something of a sense of closing out the world without robbing them of the view out the enormous glass French doors that opened onto the deck. There was also a dresser, a nightstand and a chest of drawers; a luxurious bathroom opened off the wall opposite the glass doors, and exploration of this revealed a sunken bathtub easily big enough for two. Christian whistled low. "And this is going to be home until we can build our own?" he murmured, awed. "By the time our own house is ready, we'll be so spoiled we won't want to leave this one."

"I know," Leslie agreed a little ruefully. "Well, maybe we can tweak your sketches a little bit. Right now I feel like changing clothes. These shoes are starting to hurt."

"I understand," Christian said. "We're supposed to have our formal wedding portrait done tomorrow, so I guess it's as well we get out of these outfits and hang them up." They both hesitated, then he offered self-consciously, "You go first."

"Okay," Leslie agreed, wondering why she was suddenly so bashful, and watched him leave the room before checking through suitcases till she found what she wanted. Michiko had given it to her as a wedding gift while all nine of the women were at lunch in their usual café in Amberville; it was a sleep set, deceptively modest and simple, consisting of a very short teal satin shift with loose spaghetti straps over the shoulders, covered with a matching sheer nylon floor-length robe. She swiftly changed clothes, relieved to kick off the shoes, then hung up her wedding dress and removed the comb from her hair. Stretching, she put away her suitcases and then ventured to the door, easing it open and padding towards the open living room that filled the A-frame portion of the house, searching for Christian.

He was standing at the windows that faced the ocean, apparently mesmerized by the constant movement of waves; she paused in the middle of the room, taking in his form and feeling the first remnants of physical yearning. "Hi," she finally said inanely.

Christian jumped and wheeled around in surprise, then relaxed and grinned foolishly at himself. "I suppose I'm a little nervous," he admitted, "although for the life of me, I can't understand why. Oh, my Leslie Rose, you're simply breathtaking!"

She grinned back. "You look pretty darn good yourself. The bedroom's free if you want to change, anyway."

He stopped long enough to kiss her gently before smoothing her hair and smiling at her, then went off to the bedroom. Drawn by curiosity, Leslie took up Christian's erstwhile post at the window and was impressed by the broad ocean view there. _He was right,_ she thought, _we're going to be spoiled lousy rotten by this place._

She discovered the stereo system and turned on the radio, cruising through stations till one hit her fancy and she left it there. An instrumental version of "You Must Remember This" played softly from the speakers, swirling in the air and blending with the sound of the ocean. Leslie closed her eyes and listened, humming absently with the song.

"Hmm, nice choice of music," Christian remarked appreciatively.

This time Leslie was the one to jump, and he laughed. "Sorry," she murmured.

"I guess we're both nervous," he said. "It's quite strange really, when we've looked forward to this night for so very long and now can't seem to relax!" Enfolding her into a gentle hug, he rested his head against hers and slowly rocked back and forth to the music. She tucked her head under his chin and smiled at how right it felt.

After a little while Christian's hand began to stroke her back in slow circles, while his other hand played absently with her hair. Leslie became suddenly acutely aware of the fact that his only attire was a pair of brand-new boxer shorts, and something inside her seemed to turn to liquid. She gave in to the impulse to kiss his chest, and he stilled and opened his eyes to study her before tilting her head back and kissing her.

The song changed, but neither really noticed, already becoming lost in each other. It took them a few more minutes to remember they were married now, that the restrictions they'd labored under for so long had fallen away and they were free to explore. Once it occurred to them, they did so, tentative at first, but then gaining confidence. Christian pushed the sheer robe off her shoulders and let it fall to the carpet, tucking her fully and firmly against the length of his body and standing there for a moment just breathing her in. Her warmth against him produced an instant physical response and he sucked in a sharp breath of surprise, making her lift her head.

"Something wrong, my love?" she asked softly.

"Oh no, my darling, something right," he whispered, and his kiss this time made a very clear statement to her. She answered in kind, feeling that deep-seated need for him that she remembered from the one previous time they had made love more than a year before. The memory of that night was more than enough to kick her desire into overdrive, making her settle him more snugly against her just so she could feel his reaction.

Christian broke off the kiss with a startled, needy sound that elicited a knowing little smile from Leslie. "Do you know what you're doing to me?" he asked, between shallow breaths. "Do you feel it?"

"Oh yes," she murmured in a soft seductive whisper that she barely recognized as her own. "It's driving me crazy, Christian…why are we waiting?"

"I don't know," he groaned with a desperate note to his tone and kissed her again. A few seconds later he drew back and picked her up again. "I can't wait anymore. I've waited far too long as it is, and there'll be no more of it." So saying, he carried her back to the bedroom and laid her atop the comforter, following her there and resuming the kiss he'd interrupted moments before.

It seemed like a signal. Leslie, losing what little remained of her inhibitions, slid her hands over his buttocks, down and then back, and then inside the boxers where she encountered warm, smooth skin. Christian shifted atop her and plucked blindly at the fabric that covered her, moaning, "Too much clothing…"

"Sit up, my darling," she whispered, and when he did, she followed suit and removed the little nightdress without a word, tossing it aside. For just a moment Christian took in her form, his swallow both audible and visible and for some reason notching up her need for him. Then he eased her back, lowered himself and closed his mouth over one of her breasts, drawing enough to sweep everything from her mind and make her desire fill her from head to toe. "Chris…tian…" she gasped voicelessly.

In answer he switched to her other breast and at the same time smoothed one hand down her leg, slipping under her thigh and lifting it to create a space for him to nestle into. She let her hands roam through his hair, then down his back as far as she could reach, just to the point where the shorts rode his waist. His attentions at her breasts were driving her ever higher, and when he shifted again, she clenched her fingers around the waistband and pushed, as blindly as he had moments before.

He lifted his head, smiled quickly at her, then got up long enough to strip. She stared at him in motionless fascination while he watched her reaction, but they couldn't stay still for long. When Leslie stretched out her hand toward him, Christian climbed back onto the bed and settled back on his heels, giving her a look that couldn't be misread. "Your turn," he said huskily, eyelids at half-mast.

Without ever taking her eyes off him, Leslie pushed herself up, rose to her knees so that she was looking down at him, and slowly pushed off the last of her own clothing, sliding one leg and then the other out of the panties and tossing them after the nightdress. Before she could move any farther, Christian lifted himself up onto his own knees and stared deeply into her eyes, reaching between her legs and slowly exploring.

They both gasped at the same moment. For Leslie, his touch was an electric shock to the system, and she had to clutch at his shoulders to stay upright; her whole body throbbed in time with her frantic heartbeat. Christian's gasp was of amazement; she was more than ready to receive him. "You're soaking wet, Leslie!"

"Please," she begged mindlessly. "Now!"

Watching her, Christian stroked deliberately, feeling his own need for her increasing exponentially while she convulsed involuntarily, her every exhalation a soft cry. Just before she would have peaked, he removed his hand, sat back and then dragged her forward. Some instinct directed her; she wrapped her legs around him as he impaled her on himself, and they both lost all ability to think from that point on. She moved more than he did, but his body spasmed irregularly in response to her movements. The sensation of being inside her intense heat had been something he'd been dreaming about for more than a year, and now Christian got drunk on it, giving in totally to his need for her, now and then catching one or the other of her breasts in his mouth and suckling hard enough to shoot her need off the scale and make her cry out.

Leslie rode him gradually faster, but never once sliding away from full contact with him, wanting the feeling of him filling her completely. She was unwittingly yet deliberately rubbing her most sensitive spot against him as well, driving herself as crazy as he was, until she exploded without warning. "Chris…ti…aaaaaaan!!" she wailed softly, his name degenerating into a long moan of repletion.

That was all it took to set him off, and he peaked then and there, driving harder into her with a series of sharp jerks punctuated by half-strangled cries. Their mutual climax seemed to go on forever, yet at the same time it ended too soon and they toppled over, exhausted, momentarily satisfied.

Minutes drifted by unnoticed; then Christian lifted his head, smiled in lazy amusement at their tangled, awkward position, and gently withdrew from her, making her open her eyes to watch him move. They smiled at each other, and somehow that was the beginning of a new round of desire. This time they paused only long enough to throw back the bedcovers, before Christian laid her gently onto the pillows and took the time to stroke every inch of her body, learning the feel and scent of her as he went. It delighted him to watch her physical desire mounting steadily as he caressed her, more so to see her hands reaching for him in delirious and half-completed attempts to touch him as well. But he carefully restrained himself: having taken the sharpest edge off his desire for her, he wanted to make it last longer, to see how far he could push her and himself before giving in.

Engrossed in her, he was surprised when she cried out, "Christian—!" He stopped and stared at her questioningly, getting his answer in her gentle thrashing. Heady with the thought that he could make her want him this much, he settled himself just above her and slowly entered her, only then letting himself take as much pleasure in the act as he had been trying to give her.

Leslie climaxed first, again, and then had the amazing experience of watching him as he climbed toward his own peak, marveling at his facial expressions and falling more and more in love with him. Suddenly he cried out, drove deeply into her and froze; she reached around and actually tried to push him even farther in, some deep unnamed need instinctively directing her.

As suddenly as he'd climaxed, Christian collapsed atop her, and she wrapped her arms around him, closing her eyes and slowly stroking his back, damp with perspiration. She shifted her head slightly and kissed his shoulder, lifted her leg and draped it over one of his, listened contentedly to the gradual slowing of his breathing.

In time he lifted his head and they gazed at each other; then Christian slowly shook his head, his eyes glittering. "My precious Leslie Rose…if I could only find words to describe to you this love, this need, this incredible desire I have for you…I can't do it in English nor in _jordiska_. I can only try to make you understand that you've become my very life, and without you there's simply nothing worth doing, or experiencing, or being."

His image shimmered and distorted in the tears that filled her eyes, and she abruptly wrapped herself around him, feeling his chest heave with his soft, surprised chuckle. "I don't know the words either, my darling…I just…you're everything. _Everything_. Just like me to you…you're my whole life, my reason for being. Oh, dear God, Christian, I love you so much, more than I can ever say."

They both felt his rapid arousal at her words, and he looked at her, shook his head again and grinned a little shakily. "I can think of only one way to truly express it," he said softly. "Ah, my cherished wife, how I love you…and let me show you again."

From then on there was little talk between them; they gave in to the desire spiraling between them and made love without restraints, without fear or guilt or anything except joy and their deep love for each other. It took them a good three hours or more to finally exhaust the four years of pent-up need they'd built up and only whetted with their one prior encounter.

In the aftermath Leslie lay drained, and Christian collapsed heavily beside her, sated at last. Slowly he moved his arm up till he had draped it across her stomach, then relaxed suddenly and completely. Leslie smiled faintly.

"I love you, Christian," she murmured in a tiny, drowsy voice.

"I love you too, my Rose," the reply came after a moment, low and sleepy. And they drifted off, now truly united.


	10. Chapter 10

§ § § -- January 17, 2001

Leslie was aware, but still close to slumber yet. She registered the sound of soft music drifting in from somewhere, and had a half-formed thought about forgetting to set her alarm before memory came back. She dared not open her eyes, waiting fearfully, trying to decide if she could prolong the dream…and then the mattress shifted under her, and surprise made her eyes pop wide.

A split second later Christian's eyes opened too, and they stared at each other with new wonder and an enormous sense of relief. "It wasn't a dream!" Leslie exclaimed softly in delight, beaming at him.

Christian grinned and said almost simultaneously, "It really happened!" They laughed softly then, just for the sheer joy of being together, and snuggled up to each other. Christian reached down and tugged the covers up over them, cradling Leslie close and lazily stroking her back. She closed her eyes again and smiled to herself.

"I spent all those years waking alone in my bed in Sundborg," Christian told her after a little while, his hand moving in slow circles, "wishing I could do exactly this, needing you there and missing you desperately. There was always a big empty space in my life and my heart. Now that space is full, and it feels wonderful."

"You've filled that same void for me," Leslie said, her head tucked under his chin, basking in his warmth surrounding her. "I hope I never, ever, take this for granted. You're a living, breathing miracle for me, Christian, my love."

"Hmmmmm," he murmured, still a touch drowsy. To Leslie it sounded as if he were smiling. "This is all I need. I feel so fulfilled, I couldn't possibly find room for any more, so I have no problem with waiting to have children."

A sense of sudden panic washed over Leslie; Christian obviously felt her tense in his arms, and he drew back to stare at her. She closed her eyes, trying to avoid his gaze and wishing with a sudden blind terror that she'd brought up the subject after all, instead of stepping around it all the time they'd known each other. It had never really come up, but she had never dared introduce it.

Cautiously Christian asked, "Leslie, my Rose, is something wrong?"

She bit her lip and opened her eyes, but still couldn't meet his gaze. "We might be waiting a very long time. I…I'm not even sure if it's possible. Teppo and I tried all through our marriage to have a baby, but I just couldn't conceive. Maybe I can't have children at all…" Leslie's voice thickened and faded out altogether, and she lifted herself and flopped onto her stomach, turning her head aside to hide the tears in her eyes.

Christian hoisted himself up on one elbow and regarded her with some worry, looking for the right thing to say, reaching out to lay a hand on her hair and gather some of it in a loose fist. "Do you think that's so very important, then?"

"Don't all men want sons?" Leslie mumbled without moving her head.

"It never seemed to bother Arnulf," Christian said lightly, but his attempt at humor fell far short of its mark and a tear dripped from her eye. In the gentlest possible tone, he went on: "Do you think that's the reason I married you? Do you think that's why I fell in love with you, because I thought you could bear my children? Listen, my darling, I'm old enough now that I'm used to being childless, and I can go either way. If you do get pregnant one day, I'll be very happy; but if you never do, I won't mind at all. It would mean I'd never have to share you." A faint, half-choked giggle erupted from her and he relaxed at last, hitching himself up against her side and wrapping a protective arm around her. "Let me make this crystal-clear to you, my Leslie Rose. _You_ are the most important thing in my life—not your ability to have babies. It doesn't make any difference to me whether we ever become parents. As long as I have you, I'm happy, now and always. I waited too long for you to let something like that bother me. Now, do you feel better? I hope so…I want to resume our honeymoon." He tilted his head to one side and moved it in almost under her chin till she had to look at him, and in spite of herself she started to laugh. He grinned back, relieved.

Leslie turned to him and burrowed into his arms, hugging him hard. "We should've talked about it before, I know," she admitted apologetically, "but I was afraid it'd drive you away if you knew I might be, well, barren."

"Why would you think that?" Christian asked curiously.

She sighed. "Teppo was determined that he'd get me pregnant by hook or by crook, and his family was bothering him about it too. It seemed to get more urgent the longer we were married. Maybe we were trying too hard, but I started feeling like a failure."

"That, you were not," Christian stated flatly. "Did he know you felt that way?"

Leslie shrugged. "I don't know. He never blamed me, but I think toward the end he was getting obsessed. His family was having gradually more influence on him. My only ally was his oldest sister—she was my age. The rest of his family was undoubtedly overjoyed when I left the country after he died. I don't honestly think they ever liked me…I can only guess why. Maybe because Teppo's father died here…I don't know."

Christian ruminated a bit. "Don't take this the wrong way," he said presently, "but it's my suspicion that if he'd lived, you two would have eventually divorced."

"Oh, don't apologize," Leslie said. "I've come to the same conclusion. We loved each other, but we were really young and a lot of problems kept popping up." She yawned and curled up against him when he lay on his back with his arms folded behind his head, and rested her head on his chest. "Couldn't we talk about something else?"

Christian pulled one arm out from under his head and wrapped it back around her. "Why talk at all?" he countered, but his suggestive mien was spoiled by a yawn to answer Leslie's. She snickered and closed her eyes, and his chuckle produced a gentle vibration in her. "Oh, all right. Jet lag wins again."

Their thoughts drifted, as they do on the downhill slide to slumber, and then Leslie muttered sleepily, "I wish we had met after you were widowed the first time."

"You were only fifteen when that happened, my darling," Christian pointed out humorously. "Your father would have had something to say about that."

"Well, I still would have waited," she said.

"Then you would have waited even longer than you actually did…at least five years, assuming we might have married when you were twenty," he said.

Leslie lifted her head to stare at him, just in time to catch him hastily closing his eyes before letting out a loud, fake snore. "You big phony," she exclaimed and burst out laughing, setting him off as well. Christian half sat up, rolled toward her and caught her underneath him, their laughter playing out as he dipped his head and kissed her.

"What was that you were saying about jet lag?" she murmured against his lips when he came up for a momentary breath.

"Jet lag," Christian announced quietly, "is not going to interrupt me on my honeymoon. I refuse to let it."

"Good," Leslie breathed and pulled his head down to kiss him, happily surrendering to his lovemaking.

Half an hour later they looked at the clock on the nightstand, expressed sheer amazement at the late hour, and decided they should have some breakfast. They dressed at some leisure, watching each other with frequent dreamy smiles, then wandered barefoot and hand in hand to the kitchen. It was a very pleasant surprise to find it fully stocked, and they decided scrambled eggs and waffles would suit their appetites. Christian set about the swift and expert preparation of the former, surprising Leslie enough that she stopped and watched him with great interest.

Christian eventually noticed. "Get to work, Mrs. Enstad," he teased, making her grin, and eyed her with amusement. "Don't tell me you've never seen a man cook."

"You lose," said Leslie. "I've seen Katsumi's husband, Kazuo, cook at the hotel. It's _you_ I've never seen cook. I didn't even know you could."

"I was widowed for sixteen years," Christian told her, "and living on my own, without benefit of a personal cook; and I liked it that way. Then I found myself saddled with Marina, and she turned out to be one of those hopeless types who burn water." He stilled in front of the stove and slowly turned to regard her with a sort of humor-touched dread. _"Herregud_, is this leading to an announcement that you can't cook either?"

"No, it isn't," Leslie said with a smug little grin. "Mom and I used to bake sometimes, before she died. Then I moved to Fantasy Island, and my culinary education fell by the wayside, so that when I left for Finland with Teppo, I had to buy some cookbooks and fly by the seat of my pants in the kitchen. And let me tell you, it's all but impossible to find English-language cookbooks in Tampere, Finland." Christian laughed, and she continued, "So for the next five years I rotated our meals among seven or eight recipes, and I suppose I was lucky that Teppo always seemed to be hungry. Honestly, the man ate anything I put in front of him." She rolled her eyes, escalating Christian's laughter. "So after Teppo was killed and I came back to Fantasy Island, I decided it was time I had that hole in my education filled in and got Mariki to give me some lessons now and then. I'm no gourmet by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm reasonably competent. Give me a waffle iron, if there happens to be one around here, and I'll show you—Mariki divulged a few secrets, and I can make her Belgian waffles without too much trouble."

"Without 'too much' trouble?" Christian echoed. "That implies that there is in fact some trouble involved. Maybe I'd better supervise."

Leslie playfully stuck out her tongue at him. "You stick to your eggs, my beloved husband, and I'll show you what I'm capable of." He grinned at that, saluted, and went back to preparing the eggs.

They ate at the counter island that separated the kitchen from the small dining room, perching on barstools, and Christian was honestly impressed at Leslie's waffles. "At last, after twenty-one years, I can split the cooking duties with someone," he said, reaching out and affectionately chucking her under the chin. "You've taken a load off my mind, my Leslie Rose. I wonder what other hidden talents I'll discover in you?"

"You have the rest of our lives to find out," Leslie said comfortably, evoking a warm smile from him. "I've been thinking…did you bring those sketches of your dream house with you? I'd really like to see them."

"I did, actually," Christian said. "I noticed last evening that the limo driver took all four of my suitcases out of the trunk of the car, so every piece of property I have that came here with me is in this house, and that includes the sketches. Once we finish here, I'll unearth them and we'll give them a once-over."

They washed dishes together; and while Leslie put them away, Christian went through his luggage till he found the papers in question and brought them out to the living room. Leslie came out of the kitchen and settled on the large plush sofa beside him, watching him arrange the various sheets across the coffee table. The movements of his hands distracted her; she glanced at the surprisingly well-executed drawings, at his hands with their long fingers, at the gold band set with an inlaid square diamond bracketed by tiny rainbow gems that adorned his left ring finger, and felt a jolt. It still hadn't sunk in that this man she had yearned for and missed for so long was at last her husband, and the realization made her stomach go light with wonder.

"Where are you, my Leslie Rose?" Christian teased softly, and she became belatedly aware that he'd paused and was watching her.

"Caught me dreaming," she said lightly and grinned. "I was just thinking again how incredible it is that we're married."

"I think we're going to have a lot of that for a while," Christian said smilingly. "Come up here and take a look at these, hm?" She scooted up to the edge of the cushions and leaned against him when he slid his arm around her, both perusing the assorted ideas he'd mapped out. "This one here," Christian began, pointing at the leftmost rendering, "is the outside front of the house. What do you think?" He picked up the sheet and handed it to her.

"This looks like fieldstone," Leslie commented in surprise.

"Why the odd note in your voice?" he asked.

She grinned. "Because of that pile of rocks you grew up in. I figured you'd go for wood, brick, glass…anything but stone."

Christian laughed loudly. "You might have a point there, and to be honest I never thought of that myself. But there's a difference. This is a much more natural look—quite similar to the façade at Rogan and Julie's bed-and-breakfast. The castle is built of hewn stone blocks." Leslie nodded comprehension and studied the drawing more seriously this time while Christian waited for the verdict.

"It's very pretty," Leslie said. "It seems compact with the gambrel roof and this vague chalet look about it, but it soars at the same time. So how about the inside?"

"That's the rest of these," Christian said, indicating the other drawings. "This is very loosely based on a house I saw in Switzerland when my parents were considering sending me to a boarding school there." Leslie stared at him and he smiled. "I never went, don't worry. I'll tell you about it sometime. I came up with the interiors on my own." He gave her the first-floor plan; while it was obviously not done by a professional architect, it was a detailed rendering with ruler-perfect lines and precise measurements in the metric system that Christian had naturally learned in school. There were two stories to Christian's dream house; the first floor contained only two rooms, the kitchen at front and a huge living room in the back with sliding glass doors leading to a patio. Christian watched as Leslie reached for the second-floor drawings, and grinned when she drew in a soft breath of wonder. "You like that, then?"

"It looks amazing," she said. The front of the second story held a spacious bathroom with a double sink, directly over the kitchen, and next to that an extra room; the bedroom was in the back over the living room and had its own glass doors that led to a deck. "Only one small problem. You labeled all this in _jordiska_. What's this word mean?"

Christian chuckled. "My apologies. Maybe I'd better teach you my language. That means 'library'; it could also be a den, a place for us to keep our computers, you to read if you like, me to work if the occasion calls for it. And if we do have children, we can add an extra wing—these two sketches here." He showed her the two-story optional wing with two bedrooms and another generous bathroom on the top story, and a large guest suite at the back of the bottom floor with the front area reserved for storage space. "I'm really looking forward to speaking with Mr. Roarke and beginning to map things out. You can have time to think about what you'd like to add or change in the meantime, and…"

"We have two entire weeks to ourselves," Leslie scolded him with a twinkle in her eyes, "and here you are already jumping off to the future. Don't go so far so fast. I'm still trying to get it through my thick skull that you're really my husband."

"Hm," Christian murmured, focusing on her. "Then what are we to do for two weeks alone, here, isolated from all the world and with no way to leave this house?" There was a suggestive look about him that made her lower her chin and eye him through her bangs, doing her level best to look serious but failing considerably.

"You mean you can't figure that out for yourself?" she asked, her lips twitching.

Christian began to grin. "Well, in actual fact, I have some very inventive ideas…"

"I bet you do," Leslie said, her own grin getting its way. "Show me one…"


	11. Chapter 11

§ § § -- January 17, 2001

At lunch Leslie asked idly, "Did we have a set appointment for the wedding portrait, or what was the plan?"

"Ah, yes," Christian said. "Mr. Roarke and I met with the photographers yesterday afternoon about this time, and they said they completely understood our situation. They've set aside the entire day for us, so all we need to do is call the main house. I'm sure you've been thinking of calling your father anyway, despite yourself."

"You lose again, my love," Leslie said playfully. "But it occurs to me that we don't know how long your family will be here, or Frida and Michiko either, and we do have two weeks. When the dust settles and everyone's on their way back home, we can duck back into hiding and be just Christian and Leslie on their honeymoon."

So she called Roarke, who evinced some surprise at hearing from her at all, never mind so soon; but he fully understood when she explained why. Half an hour after she made the call, a jeep arrived for them; they were ready, with their wedding outfits in garment bags, and enjoyed the ride back to the main house in an easy silence, holding hands.

Coming into the study together, they were startled to find that Roarke had visitors. He was getting acquainted with Christian's brother and sister; and Michiko and Myeko were both there as well, the former at ease with Carl Johan and Anna-Laura and the latter with an odd combination of intimidation and hope in her expression. Myeko saw them first and lit up. "Holy cow, if it isn't the honeymooners! We thought we wouldn't see you again till at least June." Everyone laughed. "What brought you out of your hideaway?"

"The wedding portrait, for one thing," said Leslie, "and we have to sign the marriage certificate so that there's an official record of our wedding and no spoilsport can come in and claim that it never happened."

"Such as Arnulf," Christian tossed in dryly. Carl Johan and Anna-Laura both laughed, eyed their younger brother a little sheepishly and then looked at each other.

"Christian," his sister ventured, "if you ever thought Carl Johan and I merely stood idly by and watched Arnulf manipulate your life…I can't really blame you if you did. But in fact, he was simply carrying on what Father began."

"I did try to intercede after Johanna died and Father came to an agreement with that count," Carl Johan said with a heavy sigh. "It made no sense for them to match Marina up with you, when both my sons were of a much likelier age. But for whatever odd reasons they may have had, they insisted on making you the sacrificial lamb. And damn them both, you weren't even in the country at the time. If memory serves, you were on some godforsaken military maneuver out near the Faeroes, and Father and the count both found it strikingly convenient that you were."

"So it was," Christian said, still in that dry tone, draping his garment bag over the back of one of the chairs in front of Roarke's desk. "You suggested Gerhard or Rudolf, and they actually refused?"

"Rudolf probably would have been the better choice," Carl Johan said. "After Arnulf enforced that damned contract, I constantly caught myself thinking that Rudolf and Marina had similar temperaments and probably would have suited each other very nicely."

"Not that it would have made any difference," Christian said, shrugging. "Marina was already in love with some character in Italy."

Anna-Laura glanced at Leslie, who was watching her husband with some concern, and said, "Mother and I talked about it shortly after the document was drawn up. She didn't care for the arrangement herself, but there wasn't much she could do about it. She told me the likeliest reason they chose you was that they thought it absurd for the youngest prince to be unmarried while one of the grandchildren was contracted to the girl. It was a stupid reason, of course, but Father was already showing signs of the Alzheimer's that took his life. You remember, Christian…once he set his mind to something, it never moved again."

"I know," Christian murmured, clearly lost in some memory. "I can't remember the days before Father was crowned, and he always seemed autocratic and dictatorial to me. Arnulf is certainly his son, no doubt of that." He focused on Leslie, and his hazel eyes warmed, making her smile. "My very first memory is of attending my father's coronation when I was only four years old. It was a bewildering event to me…hundreds of strangers invading the castle, all the formality and uncomfortable suits…and I can remember wanting to go back up to my room and play. No one would let me, and Mother finally told the others to make sure I stayed where I was supposed to be."

"I had to hold onto your shoulders nearly the entire time after that," Anna-Laura recalled, grinning. "You never stopped squirming!"

Everyone laughed, and Leslie lit up. "I have a recent magazine article that printed a picture from that event," she said. "Christian, my love, you were adorable."

He gave her a dubious look. "I was what? Leslie, my Rose, puppies and kittens are adorable. Babies are adorable. I was incorrigible." Again laughter erupted, and at last Christian's siblings and Michiko crowded around the newlyweds, congratulating them and hugging Leslie without restraint.

Myeko cleared her throat then and caught everyone's attention, just before the phone rang and Roarke offered a quick apology before answering it. "Uh, listen, I know you're all probably going to hate me after I ask you this, but see…I've been reading magazines and watching TV tabloids, and the story of the week is the secret disappearance of nearly the entire Lilla Jordsö royal family. The media tracked everybody as far as the Fantasy Island charter gate at Honolulu International, and then they hit a dead end because nobody had passes to get onto the island and the staff at that gate wouldn't sell them for any amount of money. The whole crowd of them have probably been camping out in the airport and teeing off security to the nth degree." She grinned at their amusement. "So in any case, I kinda bounced this idea off Michiko, and she said she herself didn't care if I got some statements from her about this so-called secret event, but I'd have the devil's time talking Christian and Leslie into this." She focused on her friend with a pleading look. "My editor said he'd give me a gigantic raise if I could get you two to sit for an interview. He said I'm the only person in the entire world in a position to do this, and I know I'm begging like some freaking panhandler…but we could use the money, because I just found out that Nick and I are expecting a baby around August."

"Oh, Myeko," groaned Michiko, shaking her head. "I really didn't think you were going to play the baby card, but I guess I should've known better."

Leslie burst out laughing. "You guys are a trip, both of you! You and Nick sure didn't waste any time, Myeko, did you? Congratulations!" She turned to Christian, whose expression was one of reluctant contemplation. "Well, my love, what do you think? We're safely married now, and well past the point where anyone can contest it—"

"Because we've gone and consummated it," Christian inserted, his dry tone seeming to get even dustier, "quite a few times over."

Leslie's cheeks turned pink in the midst of the startled snickers, but she shrugged and nodded gamely. "True. There's not much reason to keep me a secret anymore, anyway. But I'm going to leave this up to you. I don't mind, but if you do, we'll abide by that."

Christian twisted his mouth in consternation and peered at the ceiling. "Do you realize you've just worded that so it'll make me look like the worst sort of Scrooge if I refuse? Luckily for you, my cherished wife, you're worth it." He grinned a little crookedly and turned to Myeko, whose face was already lighting up. "Since Leslie very neatly trapped me, then very well, I'll do it too. Will two hours be enough time?"

"More than enough," Myeko cried jubilantly. "Christian, you're a lifesaver, you and Leslie both. I owe you one."

"You owe us several," Leslie said, but she grinned. "First things first. We have to get the wedding portrait done, and that should give you enough time to arm yourself with a pad and pencil and a tape recorder and a photographer. Just don't let them send that Gordy character, or he'll be looking around for something to eat as soon as he walks in the door."

"What?" said Christian, off the interested looks on Anna-Laura and Carl Johan.

"That's for later," Leslie said and planted a quick kiss on his lips. Myeko laughed and promised to request someone other than Gordy, and scuttled out of the house.

Roarke finally hung up and shook his head. "I believe the two of you," he said, aiming this at Leslie and Christian, "have decided to break your silence just in time. That was a very persistent writer for the _London Daily Mirror_, asking me if I happen to know whether Lilla Jordsö's royal family is actually here on my island, and if so, what they're doing here."

"What did you tell them?" Christian asked curiously.

"I played dumb," Roarke said, unexpectedly impish, and the entire room exploded with laughter again. "Well, you two appear to be in high spirits. I trust your interlude has been pleasant thus far?"

"My father, the master of understatement," Leslie said affectionately. "It's been a dream, and I'm going to have quite a collection of pinch marks from trying to convince myself that I won't be waking up. And we still have thirteen days of honeymoon left!"

"I'll make use of them," Christian promised her with an exaggerated leer, and she snickered. Michiko shook her head; Carl Johan and Anna-Laura both rolled their eyes.

"I see our baby brother has lost all possible decorum," Anna-Laura remarked. "Hardly fit for a prince of the realm."

"Good," Christian retorted, "since soon I won't be a prince of the realm anymore. I have no doubt the realm will get along beautifully without me. In any case, I'd appreciate it if someone would take over that silly 'happy prince' appellation. It made me sound like one of the seven dwarves."

Carl Johan grinned. "I think not, Christian…you'll always be stuck with it, even after you can no longer be properly addressed as a prince. But I could talk to Gerhard if you really want to try. The boy is positively delirious with his Liselotta."

Christian grew serious and turned to Leslie, cradling her face in his hands with a reverence that radiated from him. "He could never be any more so with his wife than I am with mine. Perhaps you're right, Carl Johan…I _will_ be stuck with the title for the rest of my days, and I suppose I don't mind quite so much, for it's finally true." He caught Leslie's emotional smile and gathered her in close, closing his eyes and pressing a lingering kiss atop her head.

"That's going to be quite the interview for Myeko," Michiko commented softly. "The love you two feel for each other simply fills the whole room."

"It does indeed," Roarke agreed quietly, watching his daughter and son-in-law. "I don't think even I have seen the equivalent in a long time." There was a knock on the door, and he quickly checked his gold watch. "I believe that will be the photographers to take the portrait. Christian, Leslie, you two may wish to change upstairs."

"No fooling around up there," Carl Johan warned with a knowing grin.

"Mind your own business, _äldrebror,"_ Christian shot back, to answering laughter, and grabbed his garment bag off the back of the chair, making his escape upstairs with Leslie. They shut themselves in Leslie's room and dropped their garment bags on the bed, pausing to look at each other and grin widely.

"Carl Johan actually put a couple of rather wicked ideas into my head," Christian admitted cheerfully, "but I suppose we haven't the time for that right now. Leslie, my darling, I wanted to ask you about something, and maybe you could tell me while we're changing in here. When I came to awaken you from your nap on Monday, I stopped in here to return the ring Mr. Roarke and I had borrowed so we could get your proper size, and couldn't resist looking around. And I particularly noticed this." While Leslie watched, he went to the shelves and plucked off the small framed photo of her, Kristy, Kelly and Shannon. "How old were you when this was taken?"

Leslie blinked. "Wow, you found that, out of everything in this room? I was twelve when we had that done. You don't see Michael Hamilton in it because when Mom came up with the family-portrait idea, he went through the roof and claimed it was a waste of money. So one morning just after school let out for the summer in 1977, when he was at work, Mom took me and the twins and we had that done at the local Sears store. The twins were ten in that. It was the only family picture we ever had done, and Mom bought the whole portrait package and saw to it that Kristy and Kelly and I each had a copy. I put mine in a little photo album…" Her voice trailed off, the memory of the fire the following year rising in the back of her mind like a specter.

Christian saw the pensive change in her mood and came over to hold her. "I know you were orphaned, my darling, but you never explained how it happened, and I didn't want to push you into telling me."

Leslie sighed. "It's been so many years now, and I've told the story enough times that it's sort of stale for the repetition, but you're right…I never did tell you." She proceeded to describe that fateful night in early September 1978 when her entire life had changed forever, her voice unconsciously sinking into a near monotone and her body acquiring a faint but discernible tremor as she spoke. Christian cuddled her close, trying to soothe her by rubbing her back and rocking her gently, but himself horrified at the picture she painted. He wished he could have been there for her somehow.

"So you happened to have that photo album to show your friend, and by some stroke of luck you thus saved the only family portrait you ever sat in," he murmured after she had finished. He tightened his hold on her and wondered how he could bring back her happy mood. "I'd like to hear more about your mother, about your childhood before you were orphaned. It seems a miracle that you're as sweet as you are, if the man your mother married was such a beast."

"That's Mom's doing," said Leslie, "and after she died it was Father's. Most of the time I can look back and smile when I remember my mother. It's only when I'm asked to talk about the fire that I get those chills again."

"Oh, God," Christian groaned in self-recrimination, shaking his head disgustedly. "I'm so sorry, my Leslie Rose."

Surprised at his guilty tone, she looked up, then hugged him hard. "Shhhh," she said reassuringly. "I would have told you sooner or later. I love you, and I want to share everything with you. Now that you know, I won't have to go through it again, right? Besides, at some point I'm going to ask you about your parents too, so I think it's only fair that I told you about mine."

Christian chuckled. "I see," he said. "All right, then, when we've worn ourselves out making love, then we can lie together and talk. Right this moment, though, I think we'd better change clothes and get back downstairs, before someone comes looking for us. Carl Johan's likely to believe we were 'fooling around', as he put it, no matter what we say."

"Aw, well, then, we might as well give him something to accuse us of," Leslie said lightly and kissed him. By the time they remembered what they were supposed to be doing, they were both breathless and half regretting leaving their honeymoon cottage.

Christian sighed. "Don't forget where we were," he murmured, reluctantly releasing her. "Let's get all this over with…the portrait and that interview Myeko wants."


	12. Chapter 12

§ § § -- January 17, 2001

When they returned downstairs, they found that not only the photographer with his equipment had arrived, but so had the makeup artist and hairdresser who had worked on Leslie the day before. "They want to recreate your precise appearance for the portrait, so that it represents you as you looked when you and Christian exchanged vows," Roarke told her. "And never mind the extra charge…I'll handle that for you."

Leslie smiled at him. "That's sweet of you, Father—thank you. Now if Christian can maintain his patience…because I know he wants out of here as soon as it's feasible."

Christian stared at her and then threw his hands in the air. "Now I see I have a mind-reader for a wife! Nothing's safe anymore, is it!"

"You've been telegraphing your attitude from fifty miles away, my love," Leslie teased him, grinning. "Just be patient for a while. Try to keep in mind that we still have most of our two weeks ahead of us!"

Carl Johan grinned too. "And unless I miss my guess, you were trying your best to get a head start on those two weeks," he said.

Christian groaned aloud. "Well," he muttered, as if to himself, "Leslie did say that we might as well give you something to accuse us of. Mr. Roarke, forgive me if I seem a bit disgruntled, but I honestly never expected this to turn into a media circus. I thought Leslie and I would come in, have the portrait taken and get back out." He met Roarke's sympathetic look. "I can't understand why everyone is suddenly so interested in a formerly obscure prince from a small country."

"It's quite simple, Christian," Roarke said with a smile. "The world still loves a good romance yarn, and yours has been especially attractive, with its tragic touch—your having been unwillingly married to one woman while in love with another—and the happy ending that you'll soon be revealing. Try to consider it a compliment, and I would suggest that you watch said media in the days to come. I think you'll find the reception very warm indeed."

"Perhaps so," Christian said through a sigh, sinking into a chair with an air of resignation about him and turning it so that he could watch the stylist preparing Leslie's hair. "But right now I only want it all to be done and over with."

"Understandable," Roarke said, just as the door opened. "Ah, welcome back, Myeko. You are still in plenty of time to watch the portrait being taken."

"It's too crowded in here," grumbled Christian, mostly for show.

"Some restraint would be nice, Christian Carl Tobias," his sister scolded. "You're a little too young yet to play the curmudgeon. That's Arnulf's role, actually."

"Calm down, my love," Leslie said serenely. "You'll survive, because if you don't, I'll never forgive you." That got her some appreciative laughter.

"I apologize, folks," Myeko said, glancing behind her, "but it turns out Gordy was the only camera hack who was free at the paper. I've already told him nobody's eating anything and not to ask." Christian sat up at that and twisted around to get a look at the apparent glutton who was to take their pictures for the paper, and found himself looking at an unassuming fellow somewhere in his late thirties or early forties, toting two cameras on straps around his neck, with a prominent Adam's apple and round-framed glasses perched on a slightly oversized nose.

"I've been hearing a lot about you," he remarked dryly.

Gordy grinned sheepishly. "I bet you have," he said. "My problem's nothing more than a raging case of hypoglycemia, but it's so bad that everybody at the paper teases me about it. No big deal. I find something to pick on them about right back." He reached out on Christian's laugh and shook hands. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness. Uh, I can still call you that, right? I hear it's gonna be awhile before your country's government relieves you of that pesky title."

"So it is, and you're correct," said Christian, impressed. "Myeko, I think you'd better try to appreciate this guy a little more. He does his homework."

Myeko snorted. "That won't stop the whole staff picking on him. But like he said, he picks on us right back. He's already heard I'm pregnant and has been cracking wise for the last three days. So do me a favor, Christian, and don't give him so much slack."

Christian grinned and said, "We'll see about that. It depends on how you two conduct this interview you insist on having."

The banter continued for some time while they waited for the stylist to finish Leslie's hair. At one point Christian noticed that the stylist's constant combing and arranging was causing his wife to nod off in her chair; he arose, sidled over, put a finger over his lips to warn the grinning stylist, and then leaned over and kissed Leslie. A flashbulb went off and laughter arose again; both Leslie and Christian turned to stare at Gordy. "Hey," the photographer said, smirking, "it'll make a good candid. I'll give you the negative if you want, but I promise, you'll like it."

"Huh," said Leslie and eyed Christian. "My love, you're lucky my makeup hasn't been done yet, or that shot would've been even more embarrassing." Christian simply smiled and loitered around her chair, lingering even after the stylist finished and the makeup artist took over. Now and then he threw out an observation that set off everyone in the room and made Leslie have to fight to keep a straight face for the sake of her makeup job. At one point she commanded, "Christian, be quiet!" But it had to come out the side of her mouth and brought on still more laughter; Christian himself roared with merriment.

At last Leslie was ready, and the studio photographer proceeded to spend a full twenty minutes shooting the newlyweds in assorted poses. By the time he was satisfied, Leslie's feet ached and Christian had grown disgruntled again, earning another scolding from his sister. "Leslie's friend doesn't deserve your attitude," Anna-Laura told him firmly. "You never had this kind of trouble with being interviewed before."

"That was before that damned arranged marriage hit the press and threw me into the spotlight," Christian complained. "Now I sympathize with entertainment celebrities who are constantly griping that the media never leave them alone. I hope this one interview will shut them all up for a change. Even if it doesn't, they'll have to subsist on that, because I won't do any more. I just want to be alone with my wife."

Leslie reached up and smoothed his hair. "Then we should make a thorough job of this, my love, so that we can try to cover all possible angles. Myeko said two hours should be enough. We'll be gone before supper."

"Must you be?" Roarke asked suddenly, surprising them both. "I ask merely because Mariki fussed endlessly last evening and this morning, and I found myself struck by how tiresome it became—not to mention the speed with which it happened. Perhaps if you'd consent to eat here, just this evening, you can reassure her." He handed them pens so that they could sign the marriage certificate.

"You know, Father, she's turning into the world's worst mother hen," Leslie said, shaking her head. "It's fine to a point, but she's gone way overboard." She turned to Christian, whose expression was both doubtful and rebellious. "We could talk about a piece of land to put our future home on, you know."

Christian considered that and nodded, his expression easing. "That's true, I didn't think of that. In that case, Mr. Roarke, we accept, and thank you."

Roarke said dryly, "Perhaps it's I who should thank you." Christian and Leslie both laughed, finished signing and turned their attention to Myeko.

"Okay, I've got a list of questions," she told them, "and with any luck this'll be nice and comprehensive so you can put off anybody else who might be screaming for interviews. I mean, Mr. Roarke'll have no problem keeping them off the island so you guys can have the rest of your honeymoon, but I figured maybe it'd take the pressure off—not just you but Christian's family too. If I sound intrusive at any time, just tell me to back off and I'll go to the next item on the list."

"I'll remember that," Christian said with a pointed look, but his hazel eyes were twinkling and Myeko noticed. She grinned at him.

"I guess I've been good and warned. Okay, get comfy." She looked at Carl Johan and Anna-Laura. "Your Highnesses, if you have comments at any time, you're welcome to say something. That goes for you too, Michiko."

"This isn't my interview," Michiko said, laughing. "I'm just a spectator." There was a knock on the door then and she arose. "Don't get up, Mr. Roarke, I'll take care of it. I have a feeling we're going to have still another spectator."

Christian and Leslie went to the loveseat beside the tea table and settled down on it; Leslie was removing her shoes when Michiko let Anna-Kristina in. Everyone greeted her and she acknowledged them, looking a bit preoccupied. "Do you feel all right, _Kattersprinsessan?"_ Christian asked humorously.

"Oh, I just have something on my mind," Anna-Kristina said, eyeing them wistfully. "Do you think we could talk about it? Aunt Leslie?…"

"I'm sorry," Leslie said apologetically. "We've got this interview, and I promised Myeko, since she's my friend. But we're staying here through supper, so if Father doesn't mind, you could stay too."

Anna-Kristina nodded. "All right, thank you," she said and sat on the foyer steps, since all the chairs in the room were occupied. Michiko, always empathetic, went to sit beside her, getting a grateful smile from her. Meantime, Roarke, Carl Johan and Anna-Laura settled more comfortably into their own chairs, waiting in the background in case a question was directed at them or Christian and Leslie looked to any of them for help.

Myeko hesitated before turning on the tape recorder she had brought with her. "Leslie, I know you're probably going to be annoyed by some of this because I already know about it, but it's for the sake of the interview, so pretend I'm just some no-name reporter you've never met, okay?"

Leslie gave her a strange look. "I'm aware of procedure, Myeko, why do you say that?"

"Because," Myeko said, a trace sheepishly, "my first question is, how did you meet?"

"Oh," said Leslie and laughed, glancing at Christian, who rolled his eyes and grinned. "Okay, then in that case, it's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Okada. Well, you see, Father and I decided way back in the summer of 1996 that Fantasy Island needed a website, and we knew it had to be a good one. But we didn't know any website designers and had no idea where to look. Fortunately, a friend of mine and her husband did…and they gave us Christian's name. A few days later he arrived here to start working on it, and that's when we first met…"

"It took me only a week to fall in love with Leslie," Christian said, shifting long enough to drape a protective arm around his wife's shoulders. "I know this is going to sound very trite—but honestly, I walked off the dock; Mr. Roarke introduced me to his daughter; and I thought, _I hope this woman isn't attached, because she's someone I'd like to get to know."_

"You all but kissed my hand," Leslie remembered, grinning.

"I almost did, but I caught myself before I went that far," Christian said, shrugging comfortably. "I thought it would seem just too smarmy, somehow."

"Well, good thing you didn't," Leslie said, grinning impishly at him. "King Errico did, when he came here several years before that—he was still a prince and, of course, he hadn't met Michiko yet. It struck me as contrived. If you'd kissed my hand, we might not be sitting here now, doing this."

Christian looked horrified. "Then thank fate I didn't!" They all laughed. "In any case, I knew before two weeks had elapsed that I wanted to marry Leslie. It took a good bit of persuasion, but I finally got her to say yes—and then all hell broke loose."

"Why were your marriage plans thwarted?" Myeko asked.

Christian grimaced, and Leslie reached out and took his free hand, wrapping both of hers around it. "I planned to move here to the island upon marrying Leslie, and that meant I would have to return to Lilla Jordsö long enough to file paperwork to relinquish my right to the title of prince. But when I got there and spoke to my brother, King Arnulf II, he shocked me completely by telling me he had married me by proxy to someone else two days earlier. He had a contract with an Italian count to import an extremely rare spice, and the count's price was that his younger daughter be married to a member of our royal family—and I was that member. The marriage contract had actually been drawn up many years before after my first wife died, but I had never been told about it. All of a sudden I was married to a girl nearly eighteen years younger than I was, and I knew Leslie wouldn't understand and that I must find some way to explain to her. I nearly lost her." He swallowed hard at the memory, and Leslie, who had been watching him, gently kissed his cheek in reassurance.

"You left a lipstick print," Gordy pointed out matter-of-factly, startling everyone out of the pensive mood Christian's narrative had created, and then bringing on an explosion of laughter. Myeko reached over and gave him a whack on the arm, while Carl Johan offered Christian a handkerchief and Leslie helped him remove the lipstick, both of them laughing as hard as everyone else.

"Cripes," grumbled Myeko when they'd calmed down. "Uh, moving right along here, how long did you wait?"

"Four years, five months and thirty days," Leslie said promptly, getting an incredulous stare from Christian. She smirked. "But who was counting?"

"You, obviously," Christian snorted, and she giggled.

Myeko giggled too. "How come I'm not surprised? Anyway…so here's the real kicker, which is probably the one all those vultures stuck out at Honolulu International want to ask you guys. How the heck did you keep the secret all that time? I mean, Christian, the whole planet thought you and Marina were a couple of happy clams, and even your brother was totally oblivious. And of course, how'd your cover finally get blown?"

"Ah," Christian said. "My brother seems to have had it in for me ever since he became king, which was about six months before I met Leslie. As angry as I was at him for what he had done, I saw no other way to deal with the situation. I do have to point out a misconception, though. The rest of the world didn't notice, because most of the time no one pays much attention to the _jordiska_ royals other than Arnulf and my sister-in-law Kristina, the queen. In Lilla Jordsö itself, it was a much different story. Almost immediately the local press picked up on the original television broadcast in which Arnulf smugly announced that Marina and I were married. Leslie remembers it, I'm sure…"

Leslie nodded and said to Myeko, "When I saw the program, I was so emotionally broadsided that I didn't notice; Father did, though, and he told me later what he'd seen. Christian stood apart and aloof the entire time Arnulf was rhapsodizing about his wonderful little achievement. He refused to acknowledge the accolades and just stared off into space. When the secret got blown last summer, I saw some silly celebrity-news program that reran that announcement, and I finally saw for myself what I'd missed the first time around."

Christian sighed. "I was furious, and it took every atom of my self-control to keep from telling off my brother on international television. It was impossible to miss, and even at the time I was fully aware of it. I almost hoped the local media would pick it up and run with it, just to spite Arnulf; and in fact they did. For some time thereafter they noted that all wasn't well in the lofty annals of the royal family, and wondered about it. So people knew that Marina and I were not in love, but didn't know why. The longer it went on, the more time she and I spent apart, and the clearer it became that this was no happy marriage. Then almost a year ago, Marina finally set Arnulf straight on the true situation between us, and it seems someone who was then working in the castle overheard. It took a few months to come out because that was when Arnulf fired about a dozen staff for various infractions, and apparently the eavesdropper was one of those who were dismissed. So that person told the whole story, and that's how the secret finally came out beyond Lilla Jordsö."

Myeko nodded. "So what do your families think of all this?"

"Frankly," Roarke remarked from behind the desk, "I'm simply happy that their ordeal has finally come to an end. There was a great injustice done, and it took far too long to rectify that injustice. My only wish is that my daughter and son-in-law will always be as happy and as much in love as they are today."

"What about you, Your Highnesses?" Myeko asked, addressing Carl Johan and Anna-Laura, who looked at each other, then at their brother and new sister-in-law, and smiled.

"I don't know what she has done to him," Anna-Laura remarked, "but I'm glad she's done it. There's a difference in Christian now. Both his previous marriages were arranged matches, and neither was at all suitable; he wasn't happy in either of them, and even in between the two, he somehow never fell in love with anyone. He dated a little now and then, but it never went anywhere. Then he met Leslie, and when Arnulf hit him with that marriage to Marina and his reaction was one of incredible anger instead of the resigned acceptance he had with Johanna, I knew he had fallen in love at last."

"You came to that conclusion because I was _angry?"_ Christian asked, staring at her. "You certainly have a strange sense of logic." But he and his sister were both grinning.

"Oh, Christian, you wouldn't have cared," Anna-Laura said. "If you hadn't fallen in love, it would have just been another event in your life and you would have shrugged and gone on. But it wasn't just the anger—there was pain in your eyes too, and I saw that."

Christian nodded. "Hm. Well, _äldrebror,_ and what about you?"

"I saw it too," Carl Johan confessed. "Not that I necessarily understood why you were so upset, as Anna-Laura did. But I did think it was strange that you had such a strong and violent reaction. When Anna-Laura told me she was certain you'd finally fallen in love with someone, I realized that was the only answer." He shifted in his seat and smiled. "Leslie, I think you worked some sort of magic on Christian. Which makes sense actually, since this is Fantasy Island. Mr. Roarke, the rumors about this place are correct—all the good rumors, that is." Roarke grinned appreciatively.

Myeko got a quick rundown of Christian's and Leslie's previous marriages, then cast a sly glance in Roarke's general direction and asked, "You think you're going to have some in-law issues?"

"Hah," shot back Leslie, and Christian guffawed. "Not in the traditional sense. Father did so much for us, even when neither of us was aware of it, and we're nothing but grateful to him. Otherwise, no!"

"My parents are both dead," Christian explained. "My father's passing put Arnulf on the throne in the first place; Mother died about ten years before that. If we have any in-law issues, it's going to be with my brothers and my sister, and possibly my nieces and nephews. And even then, from the support I've been getting, I think we have only Arnulf to worry about…not, of course, that he can do anything about this marriage."

"Well, that's good," Myeko said and glanced at Leslie. "I asked only because of Nick's mom…you remember my jitters when we got married, Leslie." Leslie nodded. "Turns out it was pretty dumb of me to worry. She told me to call her Kei—short for Keiko—and she just fell in love with Alexander and Noelle."

"You see, everything did work out…we told you it would," Leslie said, grinning.

"True," Myeko acknowledged with good grace. "Okay then…shut me up if this is too personal, but if I don't ask, somebody else will. Are you thinking about kids?"

Leslie compressed her lips and Christian disentangled his free hand from hers to wrap the second arm around her and hug her. "Children aren't a requirement," he said. "Leslie and I came to an agreement about that. If we find ourselves in the family way, that will be fine; if we don't, that will be fine too. At the moment I'm just high on having Leslie as my wife, and I don't have room to think of anything else." He gently turned Leslie's head till she met his gaze. "Remember what I told you, my darling?" he murmured.

Leslie smiled. "I remember, my love," she assured him. "I'm okay."

"Good," he said and dropped a soft kiss on her lips before looking up. "What next?"

"Oh yeah," said Myeko, blinking inexplicably. "Right. What about your status as a prince, Christian? You're supposed to be giving up the title, right?"

Christian nodded and said, "Yes, the paperwork is slogging through the government in Sundborg as I speak. It's conditional, though, insofar as there's a clause that specifies that if somehow something happens to the rest of the family, I'll be required to resume the title and take over the throne. But I don't see that happening…I have too many relatives for that." He grinned at Carl Johan and Anna-Laura.

"Then does that make Leslie a princess till the paperwork's complete?" Gordy asked unexpectedly, looking enormously curious.

Christian opened his mouth to answer, hesitated, then frowned in confusion. "I'm not sure, actually," he admitted and looked at his brother and sister. "Does either of you know what the procedure is?"

Anna-Laura shook her head; Carl Johan squinted at some point on the opposite wall and said slowly, "Well, I'm not completely clear on it, but it seems logical to me that, at least for a while, Leslie can lay claim to the title of princess—until the paperwork has cleared. As soon as I married Amalia, she became a princess, and so did Liselotta at the moment she and Gerhard were wed."

"Yikes," said Leslie, looking startled, and Christian grinned, squeezing her again.

"Cool," Gordy commented. "Mr. Roarke, you ever think you'd have a princess for a daughter?"

"No," said Roarke humorously, "much less a temporary princess." They all laughed.

"I'm assuming Marina's hotfooted it back to Italy and married her guy there," Myeko said. "Have you heard from her since your annulment?"

"Not a word," said Christian, "and frankly I prefer it that way. Marina and I really had nothing at all in common; we were thrown together against our will, and we became friends merely to ease our forced cohabitation. But it was always understood that if and when we were given an escape route, we would go our separate ways for good. There's no reason whatsoever for us to remain in touch."

Myeko nodded, jotted a note on her pad and said, "I guess Leslie's told you about her life before she came here to Fantasy Island, hasn't she? I know the whole thing, so I'm going to do a summary for the article. Nothing sensitive, Leslie, I promise."

"Don't worry about it," Leslie said easily. "I trust you."

"Cool," Myeko said and looked up. "Well, then, that's it. Thanks so much, you two. This is gonna be great. I promise, I won't quote you out of context or change anything you said, and we're going to make sure that anyone who reprints the interview sticks to that same rule, or they don't get rights to it."

"You're a good egg, as the saying goes," Christian remarked appreciatively. "I didn't see your flash go off, Gordy."

Gordy grinned. "I took about a dozen shots through the interview," he said. "You just didn't notice because I've got a flashless camera. Didn't want to distract you."

"Then we're finished here," Christian announced, "and we are staying merely because Mr. Roarke asked it of us. But once supper has ended, we're going back into hiding; so you might pass the word to friends and family that if they want to see us, it's now or never."


	13. Chapter 13

§ § § -- January 17, 2001

As it turned out, it was nearly suppertime as it was; the portrait session and the interview had taken up several hours, and they were all surprised to find themselves hungry. Roarke extended the dinner invitation to Michiko, Anna-Kristina, Carl Johan and Anna-Laura, who all accepted; Christian's other nieces and nephews had already departed for Lilla Jordsö, and Michiko reluctantly confessed that she would have to fly out for Arcolos the next morning. "Frida's still here too," she told Leslie, "and she's planning to stay till Friday, so if you ever poke your head out of your secret clubhouse, you should visit her."

"My honeymoon," groaned Christian theatrically. "My kingdom for a honeymoon."

"You don't have a kingdom," Leslie teased him wickedly. "For that matter, you don't even have a princedom anymore, my love, so I suggest you think of something else to give up for the honeymoon in question." She chortled delightedly at Christian's dirty look.

"Then I would sell my soul for…" he began, only to get cut off by Leslie's hand over his mouth and her sudden change of mood.

"No, you would not," she told him firmly, her expression urgent, while the others filed out to the veranda. Only Roarke remained, watching his daughter; he fully understood her fierce reaction and silently commended her. "You would _not_ sell your soul for anything, Christian Carl Tobias Enstad, including me. Don't ever say that, or believe me, you'll sorely regret it. Saying even in passing that you'd sell your soul gets actual consequences around here, so just _don't."_

Christian stared at her with wide, disbelieving eyes; when she waited for his response, he nodded, a little dazed. Only then did she release him. "You're serious, aren't you, my Leslie Rose?" he asked.

"Deadly," she assured him. "It's no joke, Christian, I guarantee you."

He cleared his throat and glanced at Roarke, whose expression was also solemn, and shrugged acceptance. "Well enough, my darling," he said to Leslie, "then I give you my word I'll not say such a thing again. I'm only impatient, and you know what that does to me."

Roarke suggested kindly, "Why don't you take a few moments to go up and change clothing again before we eat. Take all the time you wish, all right?"

Leslie smiled. "Thanks, Father," she said, and left Christian long enough to go over and hug him. "I wish there were words to express how grateful we both are. You've done just everything for us, and I've never been so happy." She stepped back, regarded him and then her husband, and said softly, "The two most important men in my life…my father and my husband. I feel so lucky, you can't imagine."

"You always have been, my child," Roarke reminded her gently. "It's only that you tend to focus on the obstacles to your own happiness." He kissed her cheek and smiled at them both. "Go and change, you two. Excuse me."

As he left, Leslie returned to Christian, took his hand and led him back up to her bedroom, closing the door. Christian still looked a little skeptical, and she noticed it. "My love," she said with a soft urgency, "please, believe me. I've seen what happens when people say they'll sell their souls. You can ask Father, he'll tell you the same thing. It's been so long, and now we're finally together, and the last thing I want is to see something happen to you. Remember, this is still Fantasy Island."

Christian turned this over in his mind while she set about changing; and as she picked up her shorts and top to put them back on, he sat on the bed beside her and arrested her movements. "Leslie, my darling, I apologize," he said softly. "I'm afraid you'll have to remind me on a regular basis where I am, for some time yet to come. Give me a chance to get used to having you as my wife at last, and to living in this mysterious, enchanted place, and I promise you, I'll heed any warning you or Mr. Roarke may see fit to give me. All right?"

Leslie's relief was so great that it shone from her eyes, and she nodded gratefully, stroking his cheek with a hint of tears in her eyes. "That's all I ask, my love. I needed to make it clear to you, because it would kill me to lose you…I love you so very much."

"I love you too, my darling Leslie Rose, more than you know," he said and kissed her. After a moment he drew back just enough to give her a thoughtful look and asked, "Didn't Mr. Roarke tell us to take all the time we wished?"

Her eyes widened. "Christian, you're not thinking—?"

"Oh, I am," he murmured, already reaching to remove her remaining clothing. "I don't know when we can get back to our hideaway, and I still haven't got my fill of you yet. I don't think I ever will." He managed to deftly unhook her bra and tossed it aside before kissing her again and easing her back onto the bed; unable to resist, Leslie gave in.

Half an hour later, both having taken care to look composed and calm, Christian and Leslie made their appearance on the porch, only to find that supper had gone on without them and the others were already half finished. "So glad you could join us," Carl Johan said with a knowing grin.

"You're late," Anna-Kristina announced, beaming.

Christian and Leslie looked at each other. "Yes, so we are," Christian remarked in a tone of exaggerated surprise. "Well now, we would certainly hate to interrupt your meal right in the middle like this; it would be unforgivably rude of us, wouldn't it, my Rose?"

"So it would," Leslie agreed airily.

"So," Christian went on, a gleeful sparkle in his eyes, "why don't all of you continue on without us, and Leslie and I will just find our own dinner elsewhere. Do enjoy yourselves, all of you, and have a very pleasant evening and a restful night."

"Since _ours_ won't be restful in the slightest," postscripted Leslie dryly with a sidelong look at Christian, which brought on an explosion of laughter. Christian smirked, gave her a smacking kiss on the lips and pulled her off the porch with him to appropriate a car for the drive back to their temporary home. Unbeknownst to them, Anna-Kristina watched with a dreamy, wistful smile. She had never had a chance to corner her new aunt for the advice she'd been hoping to get, but that was all right; she would be here a while. She was just happy to see the love and joy between her favorite relatives. Somehow she caught Roarke's eye and grinned when he winked at her.

There was no doubt in her mind: the happy prince was back.  
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**A/N:** _As you can tell from the length of this, I had so much fun writing it that I hated to stop! Christian and Leslie's marriage opens up a whole new world of story prospects, and in fact the seeds for three of the next four tales have been sown in this one, so keep an eye out. Thanks to Harry2 for assistance with the wedding vows, and to him, PDXWiz, jtbwriter, Kyryn and BishopT as always for the ever-welcome reviews. Merry Christmas to everybody, and see you here next year!_


End file.
